


Ivan and the Armsmen

by Rose_Milburn



Series: The AU life of Ivan Xav Vorpatril [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Duty, F/M, Loyalty, Past Rape/Non-con, Time Period: Reign of Gregor Vorbarra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 143,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Milburn/pseuds/Rose_Milburn
Summary: The continuing AU adventures of Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril, Count Voralys.Just when he thought he was heading for 'Happy Ever After'...Poor Ivan





	1. After the Imperial Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the action in 'Another Innocent Bystander' so it may not make a whole lot of sense unless you read that first. You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569879/chapters/31142889

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ivan Xav Vorpatril, Count Voralys, stood at the viewport of the Barrayar space transfer station. He leaned forward, forehead resting against the thick plexiscreen, fists clenched, watching to the very last as in the far distance the little firefly that was the brand new Toscane Industries passenger liner _Empress Laisa_ prepared to jump. With a twinkle and a shimmer she disappeared.

_Raine was gone._

He thumped his fists against the port, impotent fury choking his throat. After a few seconds he drew in a deep breath then rubbed a hand across his eyes. They hadn’t slept much last night. He’d have a large empty bed to sleep in now. Raine was on her way to Beta colony and he had a _to-do_ list as long as his arm. How in three worlds had he got himself into a mess like this _again_?

An ImpSec captain materialised at his elbow as he turned away from the window. What was his name? Ivan hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention when Vorberg introduced him. Vorberg was on his way to Beta with Raine, though, and he was going to have to get used to having this new man around.

_Fenerty_. That was it.

“The shuttle is _still_ holding for you, Count.”

He sounded accusing. Well, let him. What did he know, anyway? All Ivan wanted to do was see the bottom of a bottle. He didn’t even care if it was maple mead, just right now. “Lead on then, Captain Fenerty. We’d best be on our way.”

About forty pairs of resentful eyes watched Ivan take his seat and buckle in. The clamps popped and the pilot backed from the docking bay. Ivan slumped down against the viewport and closed his eyes, his tired mind thinking back, trying and failing to work out what had gone so wrong…

 

 

The day after the Royal wedding Ivan woke with the scent of Escobaran moon flowers tantalising his nostrils before he even opened his eyes. He nuzzled into the soft warmth and felt butterfly kisses on his eyelids.

“Good morning, handsome.”

He was in Raine’s bed. And so was Raine. She was way too far away now that he had opened his eyes enough to see, propped on her elbow, smiling down at him, her luxuriant dark hair tumbling wildly all around her, her brown eyes filled with a smoky, simmering need. He reached for her, pulling her down onto his chest to feel her yielding softness.

“There’s only one thing better than sleeping with a gorgeous woman,” he said, combing the hair away from her eyes with his fingers, “and that’s waking up with her.” He cradled her gently for a few moments, half-dozing, savouring her scent, her warmth and the satin feel of her skin. He needed nothing more from life, until she moved against him. That woke him up. His eyes flew open again.

“If you kiss my ear like that I’m not going to be responsible for the consequences,” he warned her. Raine took no notice, trailing the tip of her tongue down his neck.

“You taste like salt, and you smell like you want me.” Her breath was hot against his neck. He didn’t need a second invitation.

Utterly limp and sated at last, they lay twined together as their breathing slowed and pulses returned to normal. Ivan summoned up the strength to twine his fingers through her hair. _He loved her beautiful hair._ “Marry me, Raine?” He asked. “Please? I love you. I don’t want to live without you for another minute.”

He could sense her withdrawal even before she pushed back a little.

“I’ll think about it. I _do_ love you, Ivan.” She smoothed his hair back across his forehead with slow, gentle strokes. “I love this floppy brown hair of yours—” her palm moved down to cradle his cheek, “—and your handsome face and the way you look at me with those big brown eyes. You’re the kindest, most thoughtful man. I never dreamed…” She trailed to a stop as a shadow crossed her expressive features. “There are going to be people not happy with you marrying me. Important people.”

“Who?” Ivan demanded. “Do you mean my mother? She’s not as important to me as you are. I’m not going to let her opinion influence who I marry. She’ll probably be delighted.”

Fear clawed at his belly. Didn’t Raine want to marry him? But she had to! _He needed her so badly._ She put her fingers across his lips to still his protests.

“I don’t know anything about being a countess. It’s a huge job, and so important to get it right. I don’t know if I’d want that sort of responsibility. It needs lots of thinking about.”

His dismay threatened to turn into panic. “I’ll give it away. I don’t want to be a Count if I can’t have you with me.”

She just shook her head at him. “You can’t do that. You took oath with your Emperor.” She rolled out of the bed, away from him and away from his arms. “It’s getting late. Weren’t you going to go and say goodbye to Marie today? What time did you say they were leaving?”

Ivan had forgotten Marie, his adopted daughter, leaving on holiday today with his mother and Simon Illyan. He couldn’t break a promise to her. “1300. What time is it now?” He searched for his chrono and yipped in horror. “It’s 1130. I have to go.” He felt torn. He couldn’t leave Raine with any uncertainty between them, but he’d promised Marie. Surely Raine could understand he couldn’t let down such a little girl? Marie was only six years old.

“We have to talk about this. _Promise me_ we can talk about this. It’s a pity we can’t discuss things over breakfast, like we planned.”

Raine found her red satin robe and pulled it on. “You have first shower. I’ll go make some coffee. I’m meeting Ekaterin later on, for afternoon tea.” She paused to grin. “We’re going to Shoko’s.”

“Urgh! Don’t remind me!” The last time he’d gone to Shoko’s and met Ekaterin Ivan had ended up on that social tittle-tattle programme _Good Morning VS_. He held out a hand in invitation, trying out his most charming smile. “About that shower. You could join me?”

She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t. I’ll save that one up. Showers with you are way too much fun to rush. You’d never get away on time, so _you_ have your shower and _I’ll_ see you in the kitchen.” She vanished. _Strategic retreat._ Ivan sighed and hauled himself out of bed. Better make that a _cold_ shower. His thoughtful valet had packed a casual street outfit for him to wear and if he’d hung it up last night it wouldn’t be quite so creased as it looked this morning. Ivan hadn’t been doing too much forward thinking last night. He hadn’t really been using his brain at all, except for his caution in not scaring Raine. He looked at the creases and blasted his navy knit shirt with a shot of hot air from Raine’s hair dryer until the worst of the crumpled look dropped out. By ten to the hour he was ready to face the world. He’d even remembered to page his security before he hopped in the shower. His ImpSec minder, Lieutenant Vorberg, should be waiting by the time he made it outside.

Raine shooed him out of the door at last. In a half-daydream Ivan drifted down the lift tube. His dismay had turned back to optimism. She’d marry him. _Of course she would_. She’d said she loved him, after all. That was something to cling on to in the dark moments. Gregor had never believed someone could love him, and look how wrong he’d been. He only hoped the Emperor had had as good a night as he’d had. He idly wondered how the honeymoon was going.

_It wasn’t likely any of them would find out._

His groundcar wasn’t waiting for him outside. It was a huge, armoured behemoth idling at the kerb. Ivan didn’t need the sight of the familiar armsman; he’d know the Vorkosigan ground car anywhere. Pym popped the canopy. “Count Vorkosigan would like to speak to you, Count Voralys.”

Ivan bent down to look inside. He’d last seen the stocky, grey-haired man yesterday, at the wedding. “Uncle Aral? What’s happened? Where’s Vorberg and his squad? I was just off to my mother’s place.”

Aral gestured him inside. “Guy Allegre called off Vorberg. He’s gone back to Voralys House. I need to speak to Simon, and to you, of course.” He didn’t just look grim. He looked…menacing.

Ivan slid in beside him. “Bad news, sir?”

“Wait until we get to Alys’ apartment. No use repeating myself. I take it you had an enjoyable day yesterday? It looks like it ended well, at least.”

Ivan nodded, trying and failing to suppress the grin on his face. “How could anyone not enjoy yesterday? Gregor looked so happy. It was wonderful.”

“That was a bit of a spectacular show you pulled off, yourself, with that beer dray. Everyone loves horses. Very nicely done. Gregor showed me his new seal dagger, too. You’ve been busy. I think you’re going to surprise us all, Ivan.”

The Voralys District contribution to the Imperial wedding had been a Time of Isolation beer dray, loaded with ales, beers and ciders and pulled by a six horse team of Barrayar Blacks. It had created the stir Ivan had hoped for and more. He really should get back to Voralys House and see them safely on their way home, but it didn’t look like he was going to make it. Eccles and Sinclair would excuse him, he hoped.

There was no time to say more as the ground car only needed to travel a few blocks down the same street. Ivan remained seated while Pym cleared the area before he opened the canopy. He hopped out first, waiting for Aral to make a more dignified exit. They travelled up to the penthouse in silence.

“My Ivan!” Marie rushed over to say hello before he was half in the door. He’d adopted Marie after her mother had been killed in a thwarted assassination attempt in the Great Square. Ivan had prevented Gregor’s murder, but he hadn’t been able to save Anna, Marie’s mother. He still felt bad about that.

Marie wore a playsuit of pink overalls and a stretchy cotton shirt underneath. Her dark hair was tied up with pink polka dot ribbons in bunches on either side of her head. His mother had only chosen dresses for her before this, but he approved of the casual attire.

He picked the little girl up and tickled her. “Hello, princess! All ready for your holiday?”

She squirmed, giggling. “I wish you were coming, too.”

“I know, honey, I do, too, but I have work to do. Mamie and Papi will look after you.”

Simon had come up behind Marie to shake hands with Aral. Ivan watched the look that passed between them. Simon’s whole body language changed in the blink of an eye and Ivan felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. This was suddenly the old Simon, focussed, intent and deadly.

“My Ivan? What’s wrong?” Ivan hadn’t realised he’d tightened his hold on Marie. Hastily he smiled at her and tickled again.

“Nothing, honey. I just forgot you haven’t met my Uncle Aral. Say hello, then we need to talk to Papi Simon for a little while.”

Aral smiled at the little girl and held out his hand. She shook it gravely.

“So, you’re the young lady I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Marie ducked her head into Ivan’s shoulder, suddenly shy.

“Come on, princess, I’ll take you back to Ma McIver and then I’ll come and say goodbye once we’ve finished talking.”

Aral and Simon were seated either side of the desk in Simon’s study, talking quietly, waiting for Ivan. As soon as he sat down Aral began without further preamble.

“Simon, Ivan’s friend Mademoiselle Vorfolse was assaulted by a man calling himself Cezar Vorresiak about eight years ago, in Vandeville. Two nights ago at the Residence dinner she was badly shaken by the Emperor’s resemblance to her attacker. Cordelia and I both had the same disturbing idea about this man and asked Guy to look into it.” He paused. “ImpSec has been working round the clock on this. What we have so far is that a gene scan on record at the Imperial Orphanage matches DNA samples obtained from Mademoiselle Vorfolse’s medical records and municipal guard reports.” Aral paused again, his expression darkening. “It was one of the children brought back in the replicators from Escobar, Simon. There is no record of anyone by the name of Cezar Vorresiak. No such family has ever been recorded, with or without the Vor. It’s completely spurious. He supposedly had a wife in Darkoi but she can’t be traced, either. His whole identity was probably bogus. The child was adopted from the orphanage at age five but there’s no trace of the family who took him. ImpSec went through all the male gene scans for three years to match him up as there was no direct name link to go on. They checked the female ones as well, to be sure there weren’t any other siblings, god forbid! The boy was called Amon before he left and the only other clue is the family had an address in Vorguriyev District. Allegre’s following up on that.”

Simon Illyan sighed. He looked old, suddenly. “And the rest? What else do you know, Aral?”

He knew Aral far better than Ivan did. He’d worked with him every day for nearly thirty years.

Aral rubbed his face with one blunt hand. “This Amon boy and Gregor share twenty-five percent DNA. They’re definitely closely related.”

Ivan whispered the words. “Half brothers?”

Aral nodded. “Half brothers.”

They looked at each other in appalled realisation.

Simon was the first to speak. “Who else knows?”

“Only Guy Allegre. I want this cleared up before Gregor comes home from his honeymoon. He’ll have to find out eventually, but not _now_.”

Ivan stirred restlessly in his seat. “Someone else knows. Look at the alias. Cezar could be a variation on Caesar, but drop the c and you get—.”

“Ezar.” Aral sighed. “His grandfather’s name. Who else could possibly have guessed who the child was?”

Ivan wasn’t finished. He’d had hours to think about this man. “My Russian is fine, but my German is pretty non-existent. I do know some words, though. Resiak, for instance. Turn it around.”

Simon answered this time. “Kaiser.” His voice dropped. “Emperor. Someone is having a sick joke.”

Ivan tried to work out what they knew. “But who? This Amon boy disappeared at age five and turned up fully grown, say in his early twenties, what, eight years ago, on the Southern Continent. So that makes him younger than Gregor and older than Miles and me. If he’s into sexual assault that surely wouldn’t have started happening until after puberty, at the very earliest. He probably just pulled the wings off bugs or tortured kittens before that. Civil crimes wouldn’t ring ImpSec’s bells, though.”

Aral nodded agreement. “Not under that name, but as it’s an alias that’s hardly surprising. He could have had several of them. The description is hopeless as it would fit half the males on Barrayar. The hazel eyes would be our only clue as they’re less common than brown, or failing that DNA records. He might not have been so careless again. We need to see if there’s been a pattern of assaults, unsolved crimes, things like that.”

He continued urgently to Simon. “Was there any hint? Can you remember _anything_ , Simon?”

Simon shook his head. “There was nothing…I’m _sure_ I would have remembered something as big as this. There’s not been a whisper. He’s been hiding in plain sight for _twenty-five years_.”

“Off planet?” Ivan suggested. “Jackson’s Whole, or Beta? Not Komarr. He would have left some sort of record on Komarr. Or if he kept to the districts there’d be no central record. ImpSec need to start crunching data, if they haven’t started already. Perhaps his mistake was to go to Vandeville. That’s in Imperial Territory.”

Aral jumped up to pace the room. “They’ll find him. They have to. What worries me is the man who has sat in that council chamber for twenty-five years, who stood behind Gregor when he threw Dorca’s lance and called for loyalty, the one who has concealed this…plot.”

“You think it’s a Count?” Ivan didn’t quite follow the logic.

“It has to be. No-one else could keep a lid on something like this. Or father and heir, perhaps?”

Ivan still didn’t get it. “What’s the motive, though, sir?”

Aral sighed. “What is it always? Power and control. Blackmail, perhaps? Remove Gregor, remove anyone else in the way, install him as a puppet, perhaps marry him to a daughter, the grandson inherits the camp stool, eventually. What they don’t understand is what a burden that power is.”

Ivan couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. _He_ was one of the ones in the way, along with Miles. 

“But he’s a monster. What he did to Raine, sir; I’ve seen some of it. He’s a sick pervert.”

Ivan watched another look between Aral and Simon. A penny dropped. “I’ve heard some stories about Serg. Were they true?”

They both looked solemnly at him. “He was more evil than you can possibly imagine, Ivan. What Kareen didn’t go through, first to last. His death was the greatest mercy for Barrayar,” Aral said, quietly. “Gregor escaped the taint. It would seem this one hasn’t.”

Simon glanced at his chrono. “Do you want me to cancel our trip?”

Aral shook his head. “No, there’s nothing we can do on our own. We have to leave it to Guy and his investigations. I’ll be staying on here on Barrayar until it’s resolved though. I thought I might use you as my alibi, Ivan; I can go down to your district with you to advise on what should be done. Guy can just as easily contact me there as here. It’s only two hours away.”

“I would certainly welcome that help, and while you’re there you could meet your old shipmate from the _General Vorkraft,”_ Ivan suggested. “That would be another good reason to give publicly for the trip.”

“Yeoman Nilesa. Yes, we got your message about him." Aral grimaced. "Cordelia was delighted to get the news. She’s always had a soft spot for him but I hope his cooking’s improved.”

Simon stood up. “Keep me in the loop. I find I don’t care to be sidelined quite as much as I am. Who knows? Something might come to me.”

Ivan hadn’t spoken to his mother yet. She looked as imperturbable as ever, dressed in what for her, was a casual outfit of navy blue skirt and bolero with a cream blouse. Her hair was coiled in a simple knot. She kissed both Ivan and Aral on the cheek.

“This is an unexpected honour, but I doubt it was on my behalf, otherwise Cordelia would have been with you.” Her voice sharpened. “I hope you haven’t been upsetting Simon, Aral. You forget he’s retired.”

“Yes, just like me.” Aral bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. It sounded innocuous, but Ivan caught the feral look in his eye, “We have some unfinished business. I wanted to see you both again before you left, anyway, as we may be gone before you come back from Vandeville.”

“Quite possibly.” Alys cast a suspicious look between the two of them, but let it rest. She turned to Ivan.

He forestalled her. “Have a wonderful holiday, mother, and don’t worry about a thing. Yesterday was magnificent. It was all brilliant from start to finish. _You_ were marvellous.” He folded her in a big hug, careful not to disarrange her hair. “I love you, mamère. Look after Simon for us.”

She hadn’t been expecting that sort of approach from him as they hadn't exactly parted as friends the last time they'd met. She looked surprised for a moment. “Well, yes, of course I will. Thank you, Ivan.”

“And look after Marie. I’ll try and call every day. Make sure you buy her a pink ice cream.” He turned to swoop up Marie again, who had come in with Ma McIver. “No more than one a day, and not if she doesn’t behave herself. No giving cheek to Ma McIver. I’ll hear about it if you do. Promise?”

Marie pouted so he tossed her up in the air. “Did I hear you say promise?”

She shrieked. “I promise! I promise.”

With one last hug he set her down again. “That’s my darling girl. I’ll miss you. You haven’t forgotten Steggy, have you? Come on, Uncle Aral and I will see you all to the groundcar.”

Marie ran for her stuffed stegosaurus and they all floated down to the lobby.

Left alone with Aral at last, Ivan watched until the groundcar finally disappeared round a bend.

“We might learn something more if we go back to Count Vorfolse, sir. The tricky bastard hasn’t told me all he knows, I’m sure. He _must_ have got involved when Raine was assaulted. He might be a bit more frank with you.”

Aral’s brows drew down. “Vorfolse, eh? You’ll never get a straight answer out of him, but it’s worth a try. We can’t afford to leave even the slightest lead unfollowed.”

Count Vorfolse’s apartment still smelled of borscht. It hadn’t changed since the last time Ivan had visited. The count wasn’t forthcoming with anything other than a grudging offer of a chair and then sat in silence, waiting for Aral to talk. Ivan just folded his arms and watched.

“Count, a very serious matter pertaining to the security of the Imperium is being investigated. I’m quite sure you wish to offer all the assistance you can in pursuit of security and stability.” Aral fixed him with a penetrating stare.

Vorfolse twitched in his seat, shifting uncomfortably under the unrelenting gaze. “I can’t think what you’re talking about, Vorkosigan. There’s nothing I can help you with.”

“Does the name Cezar Vorresiak mean anything to you?” Aral pressed, leaning forward. The tension in the room stepped up a notch as Vorfolse paled. Aral continued after a long pause. “The criminal assault of your kinswoman, perhaps? You must have investigated that. It was your sworn duty.”

“I remember the name. At the time there was nothing I could do, as the women weren’t living in my District. It became an Imperial Security matter. He’d said he came from Darkoi, but that was a lie. There was no trace of the man past Vorbataille’s District. That’s where the trail ran cold.”

“And the link with Vorguriyev?”

“What link with Vorguriyev? What do you know? I’ve never heard anything against the man. He’s an upstanding conservative.”

“We both know he narrowly avoided attainder after Vordarian’s Pretendership, as did others.” Aral paused again, his gimlet gaze boring through Vorfolse. “I’ll ask you again. What do you know about the connection between Vorresiak and Vorguriyev?”

“There _is_ no link that I’m aware of,” Vorfolse insisted. He crumbled a little under the force of Aral’s gaze.“It’s possible this Vorresiak was heading for Vorguriyev’s District, but there was no trace of him past Vorbataille’s. He crossed on the ferry from Vandeville and took the monorail, but he gave the authorities the slip in Vorbataille Servian. The monorail continues north that way, as you know. There will be no use asking Vorbataille as he wasn't involved at the time and he's only concerned over his son at the moment. Falling into bad company, so Vormoncrief told me yesterday.”

Aral crossed his arms. “Well, if you do think of anything else I’ll be staying on Barrayar for the foreseeable future. Allegre will know where to find me.”

Vorfolse shuddered. “I have no wish to converse with General Allegre.” His attention sharpened fractionally. “So you’re not returning to Sergyar? That’s…unexpected.”

Ivan could sense his uneasiness at the news. _Excellent_. It would do him good to feel Aral Vorkosigan’s hot breath on his neck for a while.

Aral stood up to leave. Ivan opened the door for him as Vorfolse seemed to be rooted to the spot. They didn’t speak until they reached the groundcar, where Aral pressed his wristcom. “Did you get all of that, Guy?”

Allegre’s voice came back over the comm set. “We did, my lord. There are some reports of assaults and possibly one murder we are investigating. Strangely, although there is one historical incident from Vorbataille’s district there’s nothing from Vorguriyev’s. There is some possible link to Vorlakial’s District, too, but not the supposed wife. She never existed. We’re continuing interviews in Vandeville.”

“Keep on it, Guy. We have to find him. I’ll be visiting New Sheffield, probably tomorrow or the day after. Alert your man down there for me, will you?”

“That’s Major Karasavas, my lord. You’ll find him very satisfactory.”

“Good.” Aral cut the comm.

Ivan sat back uneasily. “You don’t think Miles could help with this, sir?”

“He could, but he’d be obliged to inform the Emperor sooner than I would like. This is going to be very painful for Gregor, no matter the outcome. I can’t see it being a good one.”

Ivan felt completely out of his depth. _He_ was supposed to keep secrets from Gregor? There was no manual or flow chart for this type of work. He wasn’t cut out _or_ trained for this kind of weaselly investigation, not like Miles.

“I’d rather not be involved, except I gave my oath to track down this Vorresiak, or Amon, or whatever his name is. I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_. I just stumble along in the dark, Uncle Aral.”

Aral wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to his complaint. “We just sit back and wait, Ivan. A very great soldier once said, take time to deliberate, but when the time for action comes, stop thinking and go in. Right now, we deliberate, but be ready.”

“Was that your father the General, sir?” Ivan asked.

Aral snorted a short laugh. “No, boy, that was Napoleon Bonaparte.”

Ivan had heard of Napoleon Bonaparte, of course, at the Academy. No doubt _Miles_ would have studied up on him.

They were on their back to Vorkosigan House to confer with Cordelia when Pym suddenly sat up straighter in his seat, instantly alert. Ivan leaned forward, trying to see and trying to shield Count Vorkosigan from any danger on his side, but it was a comm message that had alerted Pym.

“There’s been an incident on the Great Square, my lord,” he told them. “At Shoko’s.”

_Shoko’_ s

Raine had been meeting Ekaterin at Shoko’s. Ivan felt his blood run cold.

 

 


	2. Welcome to the Grey Hair Club

 

 

Out of nowhere, it seemed, an ImpSec air car materialised in front of them, and another behind. Emergency lights flashing and sirens wailing on their escorts, Pym increased speed as the streets cleared in front of them. Ivan suddenly realised something.

“Wait! We’re not going to the square? Raine is there, and Ekaterin! We have to go get them.”

Aral shook his head. “No, sorry, Ivan. They’re taking me home . It’s the nearest safe zone. It’s protocol.”

“No, let me out! I have to go find Raine. Pym, stop the car!”

He was talking to deaf ears. Pym only speeded up even more. They turned in through the gates of Vorkosigan House moments later at a rate that would have demolished the guardhouse if Pym was any less practised at manouvering the tremendous mass of the armoured car. It hissed to a halt under the porte-cochère and a half-squad of armsmen boiled out of the house to drag them inside. Jankowski stood by the force-field control, flipping it to maximum the second the last man, Pym, of course, ran through the door. The house was sealed. Ivan tried once to leave and then realised the futility of his actions.

His wristcom sounded, but it was only Vorberg trying to locate him. He had no news of Raine or Ekaterin. Neither of them answered when he tried to raise them.

“Miles! Where’s Miles?” Ivan demanded. There was a chance _he’d_ got to them. _He_ wouldn’t let anybody stop him. Cordelia came down the stairs from her suite, running to Aral to check for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “We were nowhere near any danger.”

She heaved a sigh of relief.

“What’s happening?” No-one paid Ivan any attention. He had to bellow. “ _What’s happening_?”

That caught her notice. Cordelia took him by the arm. “I’m sorry, Ivan. You must be frantic, too. There was a needler attack in the Great Square. Lone perpetrator, only minor injuries that we’ve heard about. He was taken down in seconds. He only fired the one shot.”

“One shot from a needler would be all it would take. Have you heard from Ekaterin, or Raine? They were going to Shoko’s this afternoon. I have to find her!” He shook with frustration.

“Ivan, Guy Allegre is on to it. He’s there personally. He’ll let us know straight away if anyone is hurt.”

“What about Miles? Is _he_ safe? Where’s he now? Was he going to meet them?” Ivan was going to go mad, standing here doing nothing. Cordelia took hold of his head, one hand either side of his jaw, forcing him to pay attention.

“Ivan. Look at me. I know. I _know_ what it’s like. Waiting is harrowing, but there is _nothing_ you can do right now.” Her voice broke on a half-sob, just for a second, but she continued as determined as ever. “We don’t know where Miles is, either. He hasn’t answered his com.”

Logic was one thing and terror was another. Ivan had to fight not to let the terror win. He gave his aunt a swift hug. He couldn’t be any less brave than she was.

“May I use a comconsole? She may be with Aceline, at Admiral Waleska’s apartment.”

“Of course. Use the one in the library. We’ll find them, Ivan. Try not to worry. Just trust people to do their jobs.”

She’d had plenty of practise in trying not to worry. It probably accounted for the threads of grey in her hair. Ivan’s panic started to turn to anger.

“I have to get some armsmen,” he muttered to himself as he punched in Aceline’s code. If he had his way Raine would never be allowed out again without at least three of them to guard her. There was no answer. He tried another code, for Wally this time. Still nothing.

His wristcom pinged. _Byerly Vorrutyer._ He didn’t have time for By right now. “Not now, By. Raine is missing.”

A split second before he cut the link By’s urgent voice came through. “Ivan? I’ve got them. They’re both safe. Where are you?”

“By? You’ve got Raine, and Ekaterin?” Ivan yelled for Cordelia before speaking to By again. “They’re safe? You’re sure?”

“I’m certain. They’re right here; we’re at Shoko’s. It’s chaos here. Everything is completely locked down and comms access has only just come back on now. I’ve been trying to get you for twenty minutes. They’re scared, of course. Shit, _I’m_ scared. I’m shaking like a leaf. Here, I’ll put Raine on. I’ll make sure they get back safely. Don’t worry.”

Ivan slumped in his chair. Cordelia raced into the library, Aral not far behind her.

“Ivan?” Raine sounded breathless still.

“Raine, thank god!” His voice broke before he regained control. “I’m at Vorkosigan House. They won’t let me out. You’re safe? Are you sure you’re safe?”

“Oh, Ivan! I was so frightened! Ekaterin is here, too. Tell Miles. Byerly grabbed Ekaterin and pushed me over behind our table.”

Cordelia let out a sigh of relief behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “Tell Byerly to bring them both here. ImpSec will give them an air car.”

Raine had passed the com to Ekaterin.

“We’re surrounded by ImpSec here, Ivan. Everyone is fine. Please tell Miles, and Nikki, and Aunt Helen, not to worry.”

Cordelia took control. “I’ll have Nikki brought here, and Helen and Georg as well, if they want to come, until this gets sorted.”

Aral had been talking on his own wrist com. “The area is being cleared so they should be able to leave very shortly. It didn’t look to be a professional hit.”

“A needler’s not an amateur weapon,” Ivan argued. “He meant business. Do you think Ekaterin was the target?” The adrenalin rush had left him in a flood of relief. He’d stopped shaking at last.

“Guy will get to the bottom of it.” Aral smiled grimly. “Welcome to the grey hair club, Ivan. Waiting is far worse than being in the action.”

Ivan wiped a hand over his face. This was _exactly_ the kind of thing he’d tried to avoid since he’d been old enough to realise who he was related to. Had Raine been caught up in this because of him, or because of Ekaterin and Miles? Or was it another reason entirely? It was all too hard to think about. He dashed out of the library again to pace the black and white tiles in the hallway until the ImpSec air car finally descended into the courtyard and sighed to a stop under the porte-cochère behind the still-parked groundcar. Jankowski and Pym cleared the door and ushered the ladies into the house, followed by the lanky Byerly Vorrutyer. Ivan grabbed Raine and just held on tight, sick with relief.

Aral shook By’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Vorrutyer. This is very good of you. We’re in your debt.”

By had lost all trace of his usual mannerisms. His suit was dishevelled and his hair disordered. Ekaterin had hair spilling down her back and someone had supplied a cold pack which she held carefully in place on her upper arm. Raine’s outfit was dusty and marked on the knees of her Komarran trousers. Other than that they were all of them shaken but mostly unharmed.

“Come into the library.” Cordelia ushered them all through. Byerly accepted a glass of wine and furtively tried to straighten his tunic and finger-comb his hair back into some sort of order as he stood near the drinks trolley. His lanky form radiated a nervous tension so unlike his normal cool insouciance that Ivan could hardly believe this was the same person. Or was this the _real_ Byerly Vorrutyer, shaken out of his alter ego for the second time in less than a month?

Ivan kept hold of Raine’s hand as he sat beside her on a couch, while Cordelia took a quick look at Ekaterin’s arm. There were four dark bruises, but apart from glancing quickly at By, she said nothing, just folded Ekaterin’s hand back around the cold pack.

Pym entered quietly. “Lord Vorkosigan is on his way, sir,” he reported to Aral. “Armsman Roic reports there was no danger to his lordship. He was at ImpSec headquarters when the incident occurred and they locked him down.”

“That explains the lack of communication,” Aral noted. “No private com traffic out of H.Q. without their say-so at a time like this.”

Ivan had relaxed enough to go and shake By’s hand. “Lucky you were there,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

By shrugged. “It was luckier that I noticed him. I was actually standing in the queue, us mere mortals having to wait in line, don’t you know, when I saw him checking the tables. There was something not right about him. I’d just spotted Ekaterin, too. I’d nearly reached them when he drew the needler. I just dived, pulled them down and the shot went over their heads. He shouted something about Barrayar but I couldn’t make it out.”

“He was aiming for Ekaterin?”

“It’s hard to say. Count Vorbataille and Count Vorguriyev were at the table just behind with their wives. Countess Vorbataille was the worst injury, but it was just a cut on her arm. She’ll be fine.”

All of the counts were still in town for the wedding celebrations, of course, Ivan thought. _They weren’t immune from lunatics, either._

“Where were their armsmen?”

“Right on the spot. It was a Vorbataille armsman who dropped the guy, I heard, and probably spoiled his aim, too. ImpSec were swarming the place in seconds, but they would have been too late.”

There was an interruption as a small hurricane swept into the room. Miles hurtled over to Ekaterin, hands grabbing for her shoulders as he looked into her face before he clutched her much the same way as Ivan had done with Raine only minutes before. His face was ashen pale. He let go almost as quickly to check her for injuries.

She tried to restrain his frantic hands. “Miles, I’m _fine._ No harm done.”

“What’s this?” He peeled away the cold pack. “That looks like finger marks. Who did that?” He whirled around, menace in every line of his body.

By held his hand up. “Guilty, your honour. It seemed like a good idea to get her behind some cover as quickly as I could. I’m sorry I was rough.”

“Oh.” Miles turned back to Ekaterin. “By pulled you down?”

“He did. I was trying to tell you. I’m very grateful to him. I had no idea he could move that quickly. First thing I knew I was down on the ground along with Raine behind the overturned table and Byerly was on the top of the both of us.” She shook her head, obviously recalling the mayhem. “There was chaos, Miles. We were covered in coffee cups and plates and broken glass and bits of umbrella and bits of grape vine where the needler shredded it. The chairs were all overturned and people scrambled for cover in every direction. There was lots of screaming, too, as everyone panicked, of course.” She stopped and gave him a wry smile. “I think I might have shrieked a bit myself. I got such a fright when By grabbed me, before I realised what was happening. He wouldn’t let us up for ages. You really should thank him.”

Ivan stood to one side out of the way as Miles raced over to pull a startled By down into an embrace and then just as quickly raced back to his fiancee. He sat down as close as he could next to Ekaterin and held her hand tightly. _Which reminded him._ Ivan crossed back to Raine and grabbed for _her_ hand again.

Miles was calm enough to talk properly now and his colour looked marginally better.

“This is all my fault. I know how Gregor feels, asking people to stand beside him. Ekaterin, love, I’m sorry. I’m to blame. We’ll have to assign you an armsman.” He looked over to Raine, as well. “And the innocent bystanders feel the fallout, too. I’m so sorry, Raine.”

Aral broke the fraught silence. “Calm _down_ , Miles. You’re presuming a great deal. We don’t even know that Ekaterin _was_ the target, yet. It could have been anyone at Shoko’s. There were at least two counts there, so Vorrutyer informs us. We’ll none of us cut our throats until we get Guy Allegre’s report, shall we?”

“Yes, By,” Ivan had been thinking. “Just what _were_ you doing at Shoko’s? That’s not the sort of place you usually hang out.”

By quailed as they all turned to stare at him. “I can’t go to Shoko’s, now?” He looked at Miles. Ivan thought he saw a flicker of something pass between the two of them. _By had been working._ Had he just put his foot in it?

“You went for the gossip, not the coffee, obviously.” Ivan said, trying to cover his gaffe. “Whatever you were doing there, I’m eternally grateful. We owe you, By. Big time. You can probably dine out on this for weeks. Speaking of dinner, I really should take Raine home.”

Aral held up a hand again. “I’d prefer you to stay here where it’s safe, until General Allegre can give us a report. Please stay for dinner, all of you.” It wasn’t actually a request.

Ivan looked at Raine, who only shrugged. There were lines of strain around her eyes he didn’t like to see.

Cordelia stood up. “Why don’t I take Raine and Ekaterin to get cleaned up? Miles, perhaps you can show By where he can do the same? Pym can help, I’m sure.”

“Yes, of course.” Miles jumped to his feet, buzzing with manic energy that had no immediate outlet. “That’s a great idea. Come on By, you can use my bathroom. I’ll keep you company.”

Ivan watched them go. “He’s not fooling anyone, is he, Uncle Aral? He can’t wait to pump By for everything he knows.”

The smile left Aral’s face as By and Miles left the room. “Ivan, something’s not right about this. I can feel it.”

Ivan wasn’t going to like this. He could tell. “You don’t think Ekaterin was the target?”

Aral shook his head. “I have a horrible feeling it might have been Raine.”

“What?” Ivan felt his stomach drop. “Raine? But why?”

“Because she knows something someone would rather keep hidden. I don’t think Vorfolse had enough time to talk after our visit today, but that wasn’t the first time you’d been to see him, was it?”

“No, sir.” Ivan shook his head. “I saw him a few days ago, to sort out Madame Vorfolse’s entitlements. He wasn’t very happy.”

The thought was horrible. Someone wanted to shut Raine up? Ivan paced around the library, too antsy to stand still. “I think you should know, sir, that I’ve asked Raine to marry me.”

Aral’s eyebrows shot up. “What? That’s…unexpected, but very good news. Congratulations! What did Alys say?”

“Mamère doesn’t know as Raine hasn’t given me an answer, yet. Congratulations are a bit premature, unfortunately, sir, but she’s thinking about it. This is hardly going to help her make a decision in my favour, is it?”

“You think she’s the right one at last, Ivan, to be Countess Voralys, the mother of your children and the light of your life?”

He smiled. “Oh, yes, sir. Nothing is more certain.”

Aral interrupted Ivan’s pacing to shake his hand. “I’m really happy for you, Ivan. Padma took years to settle, and look at me. I really hope things work out. If she’s right for you this won’t put her off.”

“I hope so. I think it’s the thought of being a countess that was putting her off, before this happened.”

“It’s not bothering Ekaterin, that I know of. Would you like Cordelia to talk to her? She’s had her own ways of being a countess, after all.”

 _Well, that would make it or break it_. Maybe Raine wasn’t ready for Cordelia in full flight just yet.

“We’ll get over this hurdle first, I think, but thank you, sir. I know you’ve been very happy.”

Ivan was startled to see Aral’s eyes fill with tears. The count had to swallow twice before he could speak.

“ _Cordelia_ …Ivan, if you only knew what I was like before I met Cordelia. She has been my saviour, my sanity and my fount of honour. Everything I am today, everything Gregor and Miles have become…is all because of her. I was the booze-sodden drunk at the bottom of a bottle when she rescued me.”

 _He really believes that_. Ivan had never talked like this with his uncle before. It was both unnerving and an honour to see this side of the omnipotent Aral Vorkosigan. Ivan didn’t know how to reply, but he was saved from answering by Miles and By returning to the room. Aral turned away, hiding his emotion behind a cough. By looked much like his normal self again, apart from the strained expression in his eyes. In typical fashion he headed back to the drinks trolley and looked hopeful. Miles poured them more drinks all round but his restless brain wouldn’t let him sit still.

“I’m sure there’s more to this than meets the eye.” He was talking more to himself, but then noticed the way Ivan and Aral were standing together. His expression sharpened. “Ivan, do you know something I don’t? You look…furtive.”

Even in the midst of anxiety revenge was sweet, when it came to Miles. Ivan drew himself up straight and frowned. “I’m sorry, I won’t be talking without permission. It’s slit your throat before reading, Miles, and no horseshit. You’ll have to ask the Count your Father what we were discussing and if he hasn’t told you already, I’d say he doesn’t want you to know.”

Miles’ jaw dropped. He looked from Ivan to Aral and back again. His brows drew together. “You two were talking about something— shit, was it only yesterday? Yes, at Gregor’s breakfast.” His eyes narrowed as he concentrated.

“So, it has to have come out of the Vorclarence affair. There was nothing in the debrief I got from Gregor that wasn’t dealt with…” He looked at the two of them again.

“It started at the dinner, the night before, didn’t it? Raine was taken ill…” All the expression left his face. He glanced at By, who was doing his best to blend in with the drapes.

“It’s Raine that’s in danger, isn’t it? It was never Ekaterin.”

 _How did he do that?_ Ivan simply could not believe how fast his cousin’s mind worked.

Aral knew him better. He just looked at him and shook his head. “Perhaps it would be best not to speculate. And here come the ladies.”

Ekaterin had dispensed with her cold pack and her hair was coiled neatly at the back of her neck. Raine looked almost her usual self again, with her Komarran trousers miraculously cleaned and pressed. Her, hair, like Ekaterin’s, had been smoothed and rearranged.

Cordelia found them fresh drinks. “I’ve spoken to Helen Vorthys, Aral. Arthur Pym is at their house playing a game tournament with Nikki and they don’t want to be disturbed. Helen and Georg are going to stay there with them tonight. The ImpSec cordon has been increased and she says they’re all snug and safe. Nikki didn’t even remember Ekaterin had gone out, never mind be worried about her.”

Aral glanced from Ekaterin to Miles. “I’ll send two of the armsmen round just to be on the safe side. We’re well covered here, and it’s probably unnecessary anyway, but we’ve learned to be cautious the hard way, after all.”

He spoke into his wrist com and listened for a moment. He nodded to Ekaterin. “I’m sending Jankowski and one of the newer men, Rykov. I did think of sending Pym, but young Arthur would never forgive me for doing anything as dreadful as that.”

Ekaterin smiled her beautiful, generous smile. “Thank you, sir. Nikki doesn’t realise how lucky he is.”

“It’s nothing. Keeps the armsmen on their toes, too.”

It was nearly another hour before Pym at last showed General Allegre into the room. He came to attention just inside the door, but Aral beckoned him over without ceremony. The general eyed Byerly Vorrutyer with some disfavour.

“I’ll go talk to Pym,” By said, starting towards the door, but Aral called him back.

“I’d prefer you to stay. I think we might be needing your services on this one, Vorrutyer,” he said.

By flushed with gratification, Ivan noted. He wasn’t nearly as uninterested as he pretended to be. Why had he never realised before just what Byerly had been up to all these…years, it had to be? Probably because By was very, very good at what he did, and he himself wasn’t particularly good at analysing what went on around him, apart from anything that directly affected his own safety. Ivan wasn’t going to underestimate By again.

The general wasn’t happy about By’s inclusion, Ivan could see, but who was going to argue with Aral Vorkosigan? Once they were all sitting down Allegre began to talk. He didn’t beat about the bush.

“I think it may be necessary to place Mademoiselle Vorfolse and by association her mother into protective custody, in order to guarantee their safety.”

 

 


	3. ImpSec Is All Over It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I

 

 

Raine leapt to her feet. “Count Vorhalas gave us his word! How could he? I _knew_ we shouldn’t have trusted him!”

“Vorhalas?” Allegre looked at her in astonishment. “This has nothing to do with Count Vorhalas, Mademoiselle. I’m sure we would have picked up on any sort of activity in _that_ direction. If you remember, the Count Vorhalas threat was a complete fabrication by Count Vorfolse. If Vorhalas gave you his word you can rest assured he would never break his oath.”

Raine didn’t want to be placated. “Rest assured? _Rest assured?_ Where’s my mother? Is she safe?” She threw off Ivan’s arm and stood trembling with anger. “We should never have come back to Vorbarr Sultana. I won’t be locked up again. Where’s maman?”

“Madame Vorfolse has been located safe and well, on her way to Bonsanklar. She was never in any danger. With the count’s permission,” he nodded towards Aral, “my operatives will bring her here, along with Admiral Waleska, who apparently became quite belligerent at the suggestion he should remain behind. It seemed expedient to just include him.”

Ivan smiled briefly. “You don’t want to be upsetting Wally. I’ve been on the wrong end of his temper and regretted it. He’s only just found Aceline, he’s not going to be letting her go now.”

Cordelia got to the point in her usual fashion. “What _is_ the danger, Guy?”

“The perpetrator was heard to shout, ‘No galactic corruption for Barrayar,’ before he attempted to attack. We don’t however believe the motive was actually Mademoiselle Vorfolse’s writing as the link is not widely enough known yet.”

“It was a smokescreen, you think?” Miles asked. Allegre nodded.

“Yes, we think so. Unfortunately the man was killed. The Vorbataille armsman who shot him used a very heavy stun and he suffered a cardiac arrest.”

Raine blinked. Her face had turned pale. “Someone wants to kill me to keep me from what— giving evidence?”

Ivan tried to get her to sit down again. “We won’t let them, Raine. You’ll be safe.”

“Like I was today? It was just good luck that By was there.”

Miles had been thinking furiously. “Or bad luck that someone else was there and recognised you. Who would know who you were?”

“Anyone at the wedding would have seen Raine with me,” Ivan said. “All the high and mighty of Barrayaran society. Half the people at Shoko’s, in fact. Could he have been a Vorclarence sympathiser, do you think? Getting at me through Raine?”

“That line of reasoning is being looked at,” Allegre said, “but it’s not very likely.”

“If not a Vorclarence link I then keep coming back to Count Vorfolse,” Ivan said. “He wouldn’t have the nerve or the wherewithal to hire a hit man, let alone the motive. It has to have been someone he’s told about this.”

Miles considered. “He hasn’t been talking to the Progressives, so that leaves the unaligned and the Conservatives. Vorpatril and Vortala we can rule out. There’s Vormercier, Vormoncrief, Vorhalas, Vorbataille, Vorlakial, Vorguriyev, Vormuir and the like. It’s a long list.”

By spoke up. “Vorguriyev and Vorbataille were at Shoko’s, remember.”

“Surely they wouldn’t risk their wives getting hurt, though. Didn’t you say Countess Vorbataille was injured? It would never be Vorhalas. Vormoncrief? I wouldn’t have thought he’d have the brains. Vorlakial? Vormuir?” Miles thumped his palm into his fist. “Vormuir doesn’t like me, since that incident with his baby factory, but that wouldn’t be enough for him to do something like this. I want to know what the motive is, and I’m being kept in the dark.” He glowered at Ivan.

Cordelia got them back on track. “Has the attacker been identified?”

“Yes, he was an ex-serviceman, twenty year man, nothing unusual on his record. He retired at Winterfair and worked here in the city, again nothing unusual, but we’re doing a full investigation, of course, into his political views and known associates.”

“So not a Vorclarence armsman. That would have made things easy. Was he a Vorbarra District man, then?”

“No, he was originally from Vorlakial’s district, and we’re pursuing that angle.”

Aral had been very quiet. “It goes round and round in circles. Vorlakial, Vorguriyev and Vorbataille keep coming up, though. All three in a conspiracy?”

Miles visibly ground his teeth “Conspiracy to _what_?”

“Usurp the camp stool. Unseat Gregor. Start a civil war. Take your pick.” Aral began pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He spun on his heel to look at General Allegre.

“How do we nip this in the bud, Guy?”

“I need time. I’d like Mademoiselle Vorfolse to avoid any more _complications_. Protective custody would be my solution.”

“No!” Raine shook her head. “I won’t be locked up.”

Ivan understood her horror of that. He didn’t think the others did. “What about Beta, Raine? I could take you. You needed to go back there, didn’t you?”

“Ivan, you can’t go to Beta. You’ve got your District crying out for you.” Aral said, “But the Beta idea is a good one. Guy could give Raine a protection squad.”

_Be parted from Raine? Now_? _No!_ Ivan wanted to protest, tear his hair out. Kick something. Get drunk. None of that would help him. He turned helplessly to Raine.

“Would you feel safe on Beta?” He asked.

Raine looked at the faces round the room. “On my own, with nobody I know?”

“You could have Vorberg, if General Allegre permits. You know him quite well and I’m pretty sure you like him. He’ll pick a squad you’ll be happy with. And we could send your mother, and Admiral Waleska. He could help you with—” He nearly said too much. Raine understood, though. Wally could help her pick a plastic surgeon to deal with the scarring the sadistic Vorresiak had inflicted on her.

Allegre considered. “That might work. Vorberg hasn’t had any off world or ship duty, yet. It would be good experience for him. Do you think he’ll be able to cope with Beta?”

“Every lieutenant’s dream posting, I would think,” Ivan said. “I’ve hardly been there myself. Just in transit, a couple of times. It’s easy to get side-tracked.” He thought briefly of his escape from death by just such a side-tracking on Beta, but Vorberg wasn’t nearly as stupid as _he’d_ been. “Vorberg’s pretty mature for his age. He’ll do. I’ll miss him.”

“I’ll arrange it, then. We’ll need experienced enlisted men to go with Vorberg, and an experienced replacement for your protection as well, Count. There’s a few kicking their heels at the Residence, just at the moment. It will do them good, as well. Shall we say within the next twenty-six hours? I’ll arrange it and send you the details. If you could be ready, mademoiselle?”

_Tomorrow?_ Ivan couldn’t bear it. He took hold of Raine’s hands. “I’ll see you safely to the transfer station. I won’t go back to New Sheffield until you’re on your way. Your safety is more important than anything else, Raine. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

Raine looked back at him. The rest of the people in the library faded into the background as Ivan gazed into her eyes and contemplated his life without her. Would she ever come back if he let her go now?

She just shrugged, helpless in the face of events. “So am I sorry, Ivan. It’s all a bit much. I don’t want you to be in danger because of me.”

That was almost a sick joke. _She_ was worried about _him_. “I was already in danger, Raine. I was in danger the day I was born and nothing much has changed. I’m used to it. You’re not.”

The worry in her eyes changed to sadness. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

Ivan gave in to his feelings and hugged her again. He would have stood there forever, just holding her, but Miles cleared his throat, interrupting them. “Ivan, we’ve got things to do.”

He blinked once or twice to clear his blurred vision before he let go, his hands sliding back across her waist with slow reluctance. He spoke over his shoulder. “What time are Aceline and Wally getting here, do you know, General?”

Allegre glanced at his chrono. “Any time, now.”

“We’ll wait for them, then, and go back to the apartment together.”

Cordelia interrupted, her voice warm with kindness and sympathy. “We all have to eat. Ma Kosti will be upset if everyone disappears before we appreciate her efforts. You’ll stay, Guy?”

Aral nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Guy would like to stay. You can use the secure comconsole in my study to make arrangements while we wait for Madame Vorfolse, Guy.”

About to refuse, Guy Allegre caught the look in Aral’s eye. He nodded agreement. “Thank you Count. I do need to check with some of my people.”

Ekaterin had been a worried bystander to the conversation. She came over to put an arm around Raine. “Is there anything I can do? Miles and Ivan would never let anything bad happen, Raine. I feel so safe with them, and By, of course. Would you like me to go with you to Beta?”

Raine hugged her. “Oh, you can’t go to Beta, Ekaterin! That’s really sweet and generous of you, but you’ve got Nikki, and your wedding to plan, not to mention what Miles would say.”

“Miles doesn’t get to dictate what I do just yet.” Was that the shiver of a wink in Ekaterin’s eye? Ivan looked at his little cousin who was trying and failing to appear encouraging and supportive. Ekaterin would be going to Beta without him over his dead body. He spoke with careful restraint.

“It’s a long way to Beta, Ekaterin. It’s six weeks just to get there and back again. Are you sure you could be away from Nikki for that long?”

“He’d be safe and well looked after, but I suppose you’re right, Miles.” Ekaterin smiled. “It’s not really practical. I could see Raine as far as Komarr, though. We never did get to finish our chat.”

It was definitely a wink this time. Despite all their anxiety Ekaterin wasn’t above yanking Miles’ chain when the opportunity arose. Ivan sent her some silent thanks as a ghost of a smile appeared on Raine’s face.

Pym ushered in Aceline and Wally just then, defusing Miles’ incipient meltdown.

“Maman!” Raine rushed over to hug her mother. Wally looked visibly relieved and crossed the room to shake Ivan’s hand.

“Thank goodness Raine’s safe! What the hell is going on, Ivan?” Wally’s relief was short lived. His expression changed back to more than angry. He looked furious. “What’s this _crap_ about protective custody? Protection from whom?”

Ivan could only shrug his shoulders. “ImpSec is all over it, Wally. I can’t say any more than that Raine can identify someone. There was an attempt to shut her up today—a needler, at Shoko’s. Allegre wants her safely out of the way while he finds the person responsible. We’ve settled on her going to Beta with Vorberg and a protection squad but I think she wants you and Aceline to go with her. Allegre will square it for you to have the time.”

Wally was hardly placated, but he had to swallow his questions and protests as Cordelia came over to welcome him. It would have to wait, but from the look he gave him Ivan wasn’t off the hook, not by a long shot.

They were ten in total to sit down to dinner, once Aral and Guy Allegre were pried out of Aral’s study. With Cordelia and Aral at opposite ends of the table, Ivan, Raine, Wally and Aceline sat on one side with Byerly, Ekaterin, Miles and Guy on the other. Directly opposite By, Ivan could see by his slightly stuffed expression he was just a tad overawed by his company. By could avoid catching Guy Allegre’s eye or even talking to him from where he was sitting, but Countess Vorkosigan was another matter entirely. He downed his first glass of wine in two mouthfuls. Ivan was equally thankful not to be too close to General Allegre or his Uncle Aral. It was pretty hard to keep a low profile if you were sitting right next to people like that.

As the first course was served, a fine chilled soup, By started to chat to Ekaterin about Nikki. Ivan gave him full marks for quick thinking. Ekaterin would always have plenty to say about Nikki but unfortunately Miles still wasn’t over his fright.

“Are you sure your arm is better, Ekaterin? We’ve got Dr Waleska here now. If he’s good enough for Gregor we should be safe enough letting him look at you.”

Distracted and not a little embarrassed at Miles’ lack of tact Ekaterin shook her head. “It’s only a bruise, Miles. We don’t need to bother Dr Waleska for that.” With a look of apology to Wally she asked Miles a question about their garden, obviously trying to stop Miles putting his foot all the way into his mouth.

By was forced instead to turn the other way and answer Cordelia’s gentle probing with as good a grace as he could manage. Ivan had been on the receiving end of a few ofCordelia’s inquisitions from time to time. Her idea of gentle probing was akin to using a sledge hammer instead of a hydraulic press to crack a nut. He quite enjoyed watching By squirm, until By used his wits again and started to talk about the wedding. That was enough to distract anybody, never mind the groom’s foster mother.

Ivan was more concerned over Raine, though, who sat silent and stressed by his side. Even a subtle squeeze of her hand under the tablecloth rewarded him with no more than the briefest glimmer of a smile.

They didn’t linger overly long at the table as no one really felt like celebrating and Guy Allegre was eager to be off and doing. It was still quite early evening when Raine, Aceline and Wally piled into the Vorkosigan groundcar. An ImpSec minder slid into the front seat with Pym and Roic, and Ivan lingered to offer By a lift as well, but he shook his head.

“Places to go and people to see, Ivan, don’t you know? I’ll just walk. That groundcar is a trifle ostentatious for where I’m going. I’ll be in touch very soon, though.”

Ivan took hold of his hand. “Be sure you are, By. I really meant what I said. I’m seriously in your debt and I don’t forget my friends. _Ever_. You’ll find Miles is the same, unless I very much miss my guess. I wasn’t joking about that job offer I made you, either. I honestly do need all the help I can get.”

By blinked. He was much the same height and colouring as Ivan, but a lot slimmer and usually very much more given to the quick quip and deprecating comments. He returned the handshake, an odd look on his face. “It has to be the Vorbarra genes. They’re just like the Vorrutyer ones. They’re either very, very bad or impossibly good, and they probably cross each other on our family trees more times than we would like, too. There’s not a hairsbreadth between the three of you cousins when it comes to honour, is there? Thank you, Ivan. I hope you don’t live to regret that.” He gave Ivan a sly grin. “If you had a wine cellar I’m _sure_ you would.”

Ivan just grinned back. “That can be your first job. Start making a shopping list of what I should have and get it delivered. Send the bills to Voralys House. There’s a very empty cellar to stock up. See you soon, By.”

His grin faded as he joined the others and settled back in the groundcar. There was nothing to smile about, after all. He took hold of Raine’s hand in the dim light of the passenger compartment, interlacing his fingers with hers and squeezing gently.

Wally had made sure he sat opposite Ivan. Once the canopy was sealed and they’d moved off he spoke. “And now, if you please, Count Voralys, you can tell me _exactly_ what has been going on. And don’t give me any of that ‘ImpSec is all over it’ bullshit.” He sat up straight, folded his arms and waited.

“I honestly don’t know what I can tell you, Wally,” Ivan said. “How much do you know about what happened to Raine eight years ago?”

Wally glanced at Raine, then back to Ivan. “She was criminally assaulted by a man she thought she knew and trusted. He disappeared and was never brought to account.”

“ImpSec are looking for him now, in earnest. We think someone got wind of the investigation and is trying to either scare her off or shut her up.”

“So exactly what suddenly caught ImpSec’s interest when they didn’t follow up properly eight years ago?” Wally asked.

“I can’t say sir.”

Wally drew in his breath, but Raine interrupted him. “I haven’t promised anyone not to say anything! When I saw the Emperor at the dinner before the wedding, I thought it was him. Cez, I mean.”

“Raine, no!” Ivan groaned. That was letting the cat out of the bag in no uncertain terms.

She threw him a furious glance. “I won’t be quiet! If he’s still out there somewhere, I want him caught.”

How was he going to explain things to her? “Raine, this is dangerous stuff to know. If someone,” he made a vague gesture to the window, “out there, really wants to shut you up, they might want to shut up anyone else who knows, as well. Count Vorkosigan hasn’t even told _Miles_. You saw for yourself how frustrated he is to be kept out of the loop.”

Admiral Waleska sat back in his seat. He looked like he’d been poleaxed. “Obviously it wasn’t the Emperor himself. Not…a clone?”

“No sir, not a clone. They’re not identical.”

“Thank the gods for that.” He relaxed fractionally. “Shit. Does that mean…what shall we say? A relation?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that explains ImpSec.” Wally took a breath. “I’m not going to ask anything more as I don’t need to know anything more. If you’d like me to come to Beta with you, Raine, I’d be delighted. You’ll want your mother with you, of course.”

“Not if she’s going to be in danger.” Raine looked like she was going to burst into tears of sheer frustration.

Ivan felt helpless. “She’ll be in more danger here. You’ll have a whole squad of bodyguards looking after you, don’t forget, and whoever it is will have to get off planet to catch you. And believe me, that won’t be easy, now the alert is out.”

“I don’t know what to believe, any more. We should just move to Earth, and stay there. That’s as far away as we can get and still be civilised.”

_Dear god, did she really mean that?_ “No! Please, Raine, no, don’t do that. ImpSec will get it all sorted.” Ivan was gabbling, he realised. Never mind gabbling, panic had grabbed him by the throat and was squeezing tight. She couldn’t go and leave him, not again, not when he’d just found her.

Raine wouldn’t look at him. She stared out of the window for the rest of the trip back to her apartment. Aceline started to talk to Wally about the wedding, but Ivan hardly heard her and certainly didn’t pay any attention. What could he do to persuade Raine to stay?

He followed them up to the apartment. Aceline and Wally had only packed a few things for their short holiday to Bonsanklar so they would both need more for an extended stay on Beta. Raine hadn’t packed anything at all. Ivan’s own clothes from yesterday were still here, too, to be dealt with. He ran his hand over the sword belt still lying on the hall table. As Raine followed her mother into her bedroom without saying another word to Ivan, Wally put two and two together. His eyebrows drew down.

“Had a sleepover, did you, Ivan?” He didn’t sound too impressed.

“I’m hoping it’s going to be a lot more than that, Wally. You know I love Raine. I want her to marry me.”

Wally forced himself to smile. “I’m sounding like an outraged father and I’m not even her step-father yet. I should be the last one to talk about sleepovers. I’m not usually a, what did you once call me? A howling hypocrite? This business has hit Raine hard though, hasn’t it?”

Ivan looked up to see Wally’s expression. The doctor’s eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned as he evaluated him. He continued before Ivan could answer. “Raine isn’t the only one this has hit hard. Do you need to talk, Ivan?”

Ivan’s breath huffed out in a cross between a laugh and a cry. “Where does talking get me? No, Wally, I just need to get falling down drunk. I don’t want any of this. Stick your head up just once and look what happens. I should have known better. I _do_ know better. You’d think I’d have learned, wouldn’t you, not to be such an idiot?”

The two men wandered into the lounge room. Wally took hold of his arm. “You’re not an idiot, Ivan. I’ve been continually surprised by what a competent, sensible man you are. If you had your time over what would you have done differently?”.

Ivan thumped the back of the sofa with his fist. “I don’t _know._ My hand’s been forced all the way along.”

“For what it’s worth, Ivan, you’ve done a fine job so far. You’ve proven a lot of people wrong, you know. I think you’ll make a good count.”

“I never wanted to _be_ a count. All I ever wanted is a quiet life. Look what happened to my father, and my grandfather and grandmother, Count Piotr’s family— _Miles_ is cut out to be the political animal in our family. I’m not.”

Wally spoke quite softly. “But you’re Vor and the Emperor needs you to be a count, and we all live to serve the Imperium, do we not? The Emperor more than any of us, poor sod. He deserves our loyalty. It’ll work out, I’m sure, with Aral Vorkosigan and ImpSec on the case.”

“They’re not going to help me with Raine. Guy Allegre’s going to make her run as far away from Barrayar as she can get, and not come back.” Ivan bitterly contemplated his future. It was like a derelict battlecruiser, spiralling inexorably into a black hole. Everyone could see what was happening and no-one could stop it.

Raine came out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. She looked at Ivan and held out her hand. “I’m sorry, Ivan. Can you stay?”

Some of the tension left him as he crossed the room in two strides. “Of course I can stay. Do you want me to help you pack?”

Raine’s eyes filled with tears. “I only just came back from Beta. I only just—” She broke off as the tears spilled down her cheeks. “I only just found you, Ivan.”

“It won’t be forever. You might get there and be able to turn around and come right back again.”

“No, I’ll have the surgery, either way. I want to laze around with you beside a pool and drink cocktails. Tall, girly drinks with straws and ice cubes and little umbrellas in them.”

He couldn’t let Raine see how he was feeling. She needed more than that from him. He forced himself to sound lighthearted.

“Fine by me, as long as there are no holos. I’d never hear the last of it from Miles.” Ivan held her face as he bent his head towards hers and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. “We have tonight. We should make the best of it.”

 

 


	4. Ivan does a Vor

 

 

The Vorbarr Sultana shuttleport looked the same as it always did the next afternoon. Ivan could only surmise he was the one who had changed as everything felt different. Usually he came here to meet returning friends. This was where he’d come to meet Lady Donna, when he’d thought his whole world had been turned upside down. Now he really knew just what that meant as he’d left his whole world behind at the transfer station. He made his way through the bustling halls to the exit with no real purpose in mind except to find a bar somewhere.

“Need a lift, Ivan?”

He hadn’t even noticed By Vorrutyer, propping up one of the pillars next to the exit and obviously waiting for him. Just how he hadn’t noticed By he had no idea. Everybody in the arrivals lounge must have noticed By Vorrutyer, looking like he was waiting for a fashion shoot, dressed as he was in a silk shirt and stylish slim-fitting blue suit with grey piping, a tribute to his house colours but undeniably his own style, arms negligently folded, and hair artistically swept across his forehead.

“No, By, what I need is a drink or six, but I’ll settle for a lift right now. Any news?”

By shook his head. “No progress so far, just a lot of dead-ends. I’m coming with you to New Sheffield tomorrow, by royal decree.”

Ivan stopped in his tracks. “Wait, what? Is Gregor back already? Who told him?”

“Not to my knowledge. I meant the Viceroy. He scares me just as much as the Emperor does.”

“Uncle Aral scares everybody, apart from Aunt Cordelia, and she’s scarier than he is.” They made their way out onto the concourse and Ivan blinked. “So he scares you so much he’s loaned you the groundcar, By?”

Pym stood waiting to pop the canopy for them. By shrugged. “He didn’t loan it to me, he loaned it to you, and he has a motive. He doesn’t want you vomiting all over him on the way to New Sheffield tomorrow. You’re only allowed to get moderately drunk, not heave your liver out drunk, and _I_ am delegated to be your minder. I suppose I’ve had worse jobs.” By cast him a sideways glance. “If I think hard enough I’ll remember one.”

Ivan ignored By and nodded to Pym. “Thanks for coming, Pym. I rely on you knowing where the closest alcoholic beverages are to be found.”

“That would be Voralys House, my lord. People have been busy in your absence.” He cast a level glance at By.

By smirked. “Only following orders, Pym, just like you.”

He followed Ivan into the passenger compartment and Fenerty slid into the front alongside Pym. Ivan slumped into a corner, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. They weren’t even going to let him get drunk in public. _Thirty years old and Aral Vorkosigan thought he needed a babysitter._ Well, nothing in three worlds was going to stop him getting drunk in private tonight, no matter what Aral Vorkosigan might say or do.

By kept silent on the way back to the house. Ivan was braced for some snarky comment or other, but By let him wallow in self-pity in peace until they arrived at the entrance portico. Pym and Fenerty cleared the area and Ivan marched into the echoing hall. With his visitors all gone the place seemed silent and forlorn.

“I’ll be back at 0900, my lord,” Pym told him, “with the count and countess. Several of the armsmen and household staff travelled to New Sheffield today, to make sure the District Residence is ready for visitors, as Major Karasavas has told us he only has a skeleton staff there at the moment.”

“Whatever, Pym.” The minute he said it Ivan felt ashamed. He pulled himself together. “Sorry, Pym. There’s no call for me to be rude to you. Thanks for the lift. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The armsman lingered for a moment. He obviously wanted to say something.

Ivan sighed. “Yes, Pym? Out with it. You can tell me I’m being an arsehole. I know I deserve it.”

Pym looked vaguely offended. “No, my lord. I wasn’t going to say anything like that. I wondered, if I’m not presuming too much, if you would like me to help you with your armsmen’s selection? Count Vorkosigan has found a few possible candidates for you. Ex-ImpSec, some of them, and Major Karasavas has screened a few possibilities, as well. And— ” he hesitated, “—try not to worry too much, my lord. Lieutenant Vorberg will take good care of Mademoiselle Vorfolse.”

His concern was unexpected. Ivan really did feel churlish now. He reached out to shake Pym’s hand. “Thanks, Pym. Thanks very much. I’d really appreciate your help. And thank you, too, for caring.”

Pym turned to go. “My pleasure, sir. See you in the morning.”

Fenerty had disappeared. Ivan was left with By Vorrutyer.

“Come on, By, show me what you’ve done with my wine cellar. Time for a taste test. You better not have bought any of that Vorkosigan red we gave to Count Vorhalas. I’m not made of money.”

“I couldn’t if I’d wanted to,” By told him, walking off to the kitchen to get to the cellar steps. “I did try, but that was a private family vintage.” He stopped to give Ivan an evil grin over his shoulder. “I did manage a few dozen of the next best thing. Not dirt cheap, but you get what you pay for. I had it delivered a few hours ago. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

If he had to share a bottle with anybody, Ivan wouldn’t have picked Byerly Vorrutyer as first choice to share it with, but he was better than nobody. By fussed around like a finicky old Vor dragon, using Ivan’s handkerchief — not his own, Ivan noticed — to dust down the handrail of the short flight of stairs into the cellar so his cuffs wouldn’t get soiled. He’d been busy at the wine merchant. Ivan estimated thirty dozen bottles racked up in the cool space, in ten different styles.

“You can run through three dozen easily, at a decent party,” By explained. “There’s some just for yourself, some for your good friends, some for the ladies, some for general entertaining, and so forth. I did think about getting some for your worst enemies, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “What if you offered it to me?”

“Just pick one, By,” Ivan said, in no mood for banter. “No, better make that three. We can always come back later if we need to.”

“This will do me. What would you like?” By quipped after he’d armed himself with three bottles.

“I’d like my life back, but failing that you’ve made a good start.” Ivan turned on his heel and marched back on up the stairs to his study. He’d found a couple of glasses by the time By caught up with him. His foul mood hadn’t changed any, except to get worse. He didn’t bother looking at the labels or taste testing, just sloshed the wine into the glasses almost up to the rims. The first round didn’t even touch the sides on the way down.

By looked at him in some concern. “You’re not going to fall to pieces now, are you Ivan? You’ve got standards to uphold, you know.”

“Fuck you, Vorrutyer.” Ivan sprawled in his leather arm chair and undid his collar. “And fuck your standards. You can insert them sideways where the sun don’t shine.” He refilled his glass and downed it again. By sighed and sipped at his drink.

“Well isn’t this going to be just peachy?”

 

Ivan did most of his vomiting well before the groundcar arrived to collect them the next morning. He vaguely remembered By and his valet hauling him off to his bedroom while he could still just about crawl. That might have been after their second trip to the wine cellar, or was there a third one? By tipped him onto the bed and the valet pulled his boots off for him. By had lingered to say something, too, as he stood over the bed, looking down at Ivan with a strange look on his face. No doubt it was some very deep and meaningful bullshit, but right now he had no idea what it was. The world had narrowed to him, the tiled bathroom floor and the toilet. That would be right. His whole life was down the toilet, wasn’t it? It was a pity he couldn’t flush himself away, along with his stomach and his liver. 

When he at last staggered out of his bathroom he found By waiting with the coffeepot and painkillers.

“Good morning, sunshine,” By grinned, pouring and handing him a large mug of scalding coffee. “You’ve got forty-five minutes and I am neither your mother nor your nanny, so I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Ivan grunted. By turned to walk out, but Ivan stopped him for a minute. “What was that you said to me last night, By?”

“I said lots of things to you last night, Ivan, but alas you didn’t listen to any of them. You were in no mood for my sage advice.”

“Not that crap about facing adversity with courage, like you’d know, you little weasel, that last thing you said.”

By flushed just a little. He looked uncomfortable. “Oh, that. Well, I was just a little drunk as well, you know. There was no way I could keep up with _you_ though. You’d win the gold medal at the all-Barrayaran drink fest. You were hell bent on self destruction, weren’t you? It never works. What I said was you should be glad I wasn’t another member of my family. I usually try not to think about him but it must have been brought on by the DNA swab ImpSec insisted on taking yesterday, as I was the closest Vorrutyer they could find at short notice.”

Ivan didn’t want to think too much about that one. Was he referring to Richars—oh, shit, no. He was referring to his late unlamented Uncle Ges.

 _Ohshitohshitohshit_.

He hadn’t thought to make the leap ImpSec had obviously done. What if there was a Vorrutyer bastard out there as well as a Vorbarra one? That idea was more than enough to sober him up completely. He held one hand to his aching head and leaned against the wall for a minute to try and take it all in.

It was only as his valet fussed about the set of his second-best Voralys house uniform that the other boot hit the floor. He had to swallow hard. He’d heard the rumours about Ges and his Uncle Aral. _Dear god._ By…last night did By want to…no. Ivan shook his head, wincing as he did so. He wasn’t going there.

As his valet opened the bedroom door for him he stopped again. He was going to have to go there, though, wasn’t he? He couldn’t let By think like that. Ivan sighed. One thing more for his list.

His head was feeling marginally better by the time the groundcar arrived to take them to the military flyerport but he certainly wasn’t up to making pleasant small talk. With both the Viceroy and the Vicereine aboard the security convoy was impressive, both on the ground and in the air. By Vorrutyer joined them in the main compartment and the rest of the entourage took up Fenerty, the valet and the remaining Voralys household staff.

After a brief good morning Aral took pity on Ivan’s red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks and left him in peace. Cordelia rolled her eyes a little, but she was inured to Barrayarrans by now. If she hadn’t been successful in getting Aral or Miles to change their drinking habits it was a waste of time saying anything to Ivan. She devoted her attention instead to Byerly, pumping him for news about Dono and Olivia’s engagement.

Two hours later their Imperial lightflyer landed in the middle of the town square at New Sheffield, the rest of their escort peeling off to the city flyerport once their charge had safely set down. Ivan looked out of the window and saw the town band preparing to strike up the minute the Viceroy’s foot touched the red carpet being rolled out towards them. There was a huge crowd, held back by a cordon of impassive ImpSec men. The square was still decorated with black and silver banners, oak leaves and flower garlands, left over from the big screen holovid broadcasting of the Imperial wedding two days previously. The screen was still there, projecting the morning’s celebrations. Wonderful. Everyone in the crowd would get to see his bleary red eyes. Ivan shrugged. It didn’t matter, they wouldn’t actually be wasting much time looking at him, after all, with the Viceroy and Vicereine to see.

Ivan recognised Major Karasavas, but most of the rest of the ImpSec detachment must have belonged to Aral’s detail. His wandering mind was brought back in short order by the first crash of the cymbals. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. _Was it too early to take more painkillers?_ Where could he crawl away and die?

Most of the people here would never have seen Aral Vorkosigan, the national hero, Ivan realised. Cheers resounded in the square as he appeared. Ivan dropped back a little to let the crowds get a good look. By trailed along beside him, looking around at the spectacle as the Vorkosigans moved around the security perimeter, waving to the crowds and generally making their presence felt.

As Ivan walked along, looking without a great deal of interest at the press of people, he suddenly noticed an older woman standing quietly by the barricade. She had a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes looked distant and sad. He knew that lady. Captain Fenerty, walking close to his left shoulder, gasped in horror as Ivan darted over, away from the official walkway.

Ivan took the lady’s hand and kissed it. She blushed scarlet, dropping a startled curtsey. He looked around and called Byerly Vorrutyer over.

“By, this is Madame Walton. Her husband was the armsman who saved my life when were dealing with—” he realised he didn’t even want to say the name, “—the security incident. Madame Walton, may I present Byerly Vorrutyer?”

By followed up Ivan’s introduction with an exquisite bow as he too kissed her hand. They didn’t linger as Fenerty was flapping around like a wet hen, so Ivan gave the old lady one last smile and allowed himself to be shepherded back in line. It was only then he noticed the little scene had been broadcast on the holovid, bleary eyes and all. The crowd all around broke out in applause. They were smiling at _him_. He was startled and not a little bit humbled to realise some of the cheers actually were for him, too.

Karasavas had been busy. Children waved printed flimsy flags in the new Voralys blue and silver colours and a new District standard, alongside an Imperial one, flew outside the District Office. There was little sign of the rubble and ruin Ivan had left behind the last time he’d been here. The major must have had people working round the clock on the repairs. Even the chimney looked just as it had before Ivan tossed a grenade down it.

There was a dais set up outside the Office, between the two flagpoles. After Major Karasavas introduced them, Aral made a short speech of thanks and support for the new count and then called Ivan forward, much to his horror. He could hear By Vorrutyer snickering behind him as he floundered to think of something inspiring to say. In the end he settled for a simple thank you, and a promise to do his best for the people of his District. Amid more cheers a young girl, looking very similar to his own Marie, was ushered forwards with a bouquet of flowers for Cordelia.

Shit! _Marie_. Ivan had completely forgotten to call her yesterday, her first full day on her holiday away from him. He’d promised to call her every day and he hadn’t even made it to day one. It was all he needed to fill his cup to overflowing.

At last, thankfully, the ceremonial welcome was over. Lunch waited for them in the District Residence. Lunch…Ivan’s stomach roiled. He groaned.

As they walked up the square to the District Residence Ivan finally got to say a few words to Major Karasavas. He summoned up some enthusiasm from somewhere. He’d forgotten what a dynamo the major was.

“Mikhail! It’s great to see you. It looks like you’ve been taking good care of everything while I’ve been gone. No dramas, I hope?”

Karasavas shook Ivan’s hand. He was a wiry man, dark haired, dark eyed, shorter and older than Ivan with a very keen expression and a no-nonsense attitude. Today he had a broad smile on his face. It was somehow very unnerving to see an ImpSec major with a broad smile on his face.

“Welcome, my lord. It’s really good to see you. You certainly know how to pull out a showstopper for an encore. I don’t know what’s more impressive, you coming back with an auditor’s chain or the Countship. News of your appointment was very well-received locally, for the most part. There are a few recalcitrants so I do have a security briefing to give you and the viceregal party. I thought we could speak after lunch?”

Ivan nodded. A sudden, choking lump filled his throat. He couldn’t speak. Karasavas deserved so much more than his miserable drink-sodden apathy. Anna Watson, bleeding to death in Vorbarr Sultana’s Great Square, deserved so much more than this from him, too. He’d promised her. So too did Farmer Eccles, Sinclair the cooper and his three ratbag apprentices. What about Marcus Fox, holding down a job he didn’t want to do, for Ivan’s sake? Madame Walton just now, so happy to see him. Hell, Blossom the Barrayaran Black _horse_ was worth more than his own sorry hide. He stumbled just a little as he walked along.

Wally’s words echoed in his head, ‘the Emperor needs you to be a count.’ _The Emperor needs you_. He took a deep, shaky breath. He was Vor, and he’d taken oath with his Emperor. Very easy to say. _One hell of a lot harder to do_. He looked back at the major.

“I have no plans right now, other than somehow improving things round here. I’m being guided by the Viceroy, just at the moment. Come and say hello to him properly.”

“It’s my very great honour, my lord. I never thought I’d get any closer to Aral Vorkosigan than the day he came to talk to our graduating class. He was the Prime Minister, then.”

“Ah, yes. Lawful commands and illegal orders. None of us ever forget _that_ seminar, do we?” Ivan shuddered.

Aral shook Karasavas’ hand, but his eyes flicked to Ivan’s face before he smoothly introduced the major to Cordelia. He took a second while she talked to him to murmur under his breath, “Something wrong, Ivan?”

Count Voralys straightened his back. “No, sir. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

 


	5. Getting the Show on the Road

 

 

Ivan ran down the stairs to the front hallway at 0600 the next morning, ready for some exercise. He’d done nothing about his fitness for weeks and it was starting to tell. Armsman Pym looked sharply at him, although he refrained from commenting apart from wishing him good morning. He was wearing workout kit himself, even though Ivan could still see the telltale shape of a stunner under his sweatshirt. There were eight armsmen in total ready to go out. It must have been most of the day shift, as three of the score had remained in Vorbarr Sultana with Miles. With four on the night shift and four remaining to guard the count that only left one spare. Ivan guessed he had been seconded to Ekaterin at Miles’ insistence, and probably very much against her wishes, at that. A couple of Major Karasavas’ men joined them from the servant’s quarters. The ImpSec men braced up considerably when they spotted Ivan’s presence and he noticed one of them touch his ear and speak briefly. Letting Karasavas know he was going out, obviously.

It was still cool in the early morning air, but it promised to be a fine summer’s day, with no clouds to be seen in the sky. Apart from a couple of municipal crews clearing away the barricades from the day before there were very few people about, although they certainly caught the attention of the early-morning café owners who were setting out their tables and chairs around the square for the day’s trading. There were a few startled and even frightened looks at the imposing squad of men moving at a fast jog through the square towards the city park. Even at his height of six-one Ivan was one of the shortest of them and it would be a brave or foolish soul who stopped to argue with the intimidating bunch.

Inside the first ten minutes he began to regret his decision, and after fifteen his idea of using the run to orient himself to the city faded into a dim memory as he concentrated on the back of the man in front of him, willing himself not to fall over or pass out. He was blowing and wheezing like a TOI steam engine by the time they reached the park at last and halted at a grassy sward to do some strength exercises. Ivan collapsed onto his back, looking up through the leafy green cover of an oak tree at the blue sky, sucking in air as fast as his lungs would allow and desperately trying not to vomit. At last his pulse slowed marginally and he pushed himself into the ab crunches, push ups and squats the rest of them were repeating in sets of ten. In a world of pain Ivan restricted himself to ten of each before he flopped back to the turf again. He had to save some energy for the run home, after all. At the end of the workout Pym held out a hand to pull him to his feet. Ivan was beginning to read Pym a lot better with his closer acquaintance.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Nothing, my lord. I’m not laughing, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

Ivan huffed a laugh. “That would be you and me both, Pym. Just make sure I get home, as well. It wouldn’t be a good look for the locals to see their Count passed out in the square, would it?”

“You’ll do better tomorrow. You’ve already done better today than yesterday.” Pym looked at him quite seriously. “I’m glad you decided to fight, my lord. Flight isn’t the way to go, not for you.”

Ivan jogged off slowly, with Pym by his side. “Of course you would have noticed. How obvious was it?”

“The Countess was worried about you. We had a small wager.”

“Did you now? Who won?”

“She thought you’d head for Beta.”

It had been a damned close-run decision. “That’s because she’s Betan, she’s sensible and she’s not a lunatic Vor.”

Pym said something almost under his breath. “She lost because she didn’t see you climb into that biohazard suit without a second thought, Ivan, and try to get me to stay behind, when _I_ was the one with the training, not you. You’re not on your own. We’ll all help you, any way we can.”

Ivan nearly fell over his own feet with the shock. Pym had called him _Ivan_. _Whoa. Holy shit!_

Pym sprinted away before he could think of a reply, spinning round to run backwards and give him a smile and a half salute before he turned again and disappeared round a corner. He had to be twenty years older than Ivan and he could still run rings round him. Struggling along behind, Ivan tried to work out why Pym had said such a thing. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue; Pym had meant to say that. It humbled him when he decided, in the end, that Pym had talked to him like a friend, a comrade in arms rather than someone he owed a duty to. They’d shared that desperate search for the bio-agent Vorclarence had plotted to let loose in Vorbarr Sultana. The two of them would always have that, no matter who was the count and who was the armsman.

Ivan arrived back at the house second to last, and that was because one of the ImpSec men deliberately brought up the rear to pace him. Pym was nowhere to be seen. They’d been gone an hour, although it seemed much longer, more like a lifetime. Wally wouldn’t be impressed if he could see the shape he was in now.

In a fit of mischief he banged on By Vorrutyer’s bedroom door on the way past. “It’s 1100 hours, By. Are you never going to get up?”

He heard something that sounded like a body hit the floor and sniggered. When was the last time By had been awake for breakfast? He made sure he locked his own door to avoid retribution before stripping off and heading for the shower.

By glowered at him over the breakfast table. His eyes looked somewhat haggard and he winced when the armsman placed his coffee cup in front of him.

“You’re a sadist, Voralys. I actually believed you. What did I have to get up for? I got you here safely, didn’t I? That was my side of the bargain. I had to put up with your pitiful moaning for hours and hours, _and_ get up yesterday nearly as early as today! Surely you could have had some consideration for my poor constitution?”

Cordelia and Aral weren’t down yet, so it was just the two of them in the room. Ivan sipped some coffee, wondering if he should say something. Yes, he had to. “By, about that night…what you said…”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment or two. By stirred his coffee, not looking anywhere but his cup. “I was drunk, Ivan.”

“In vino veritas?”

By’s eyes widened. “Ivan Vorpatril quoting Latin at me? That I should live to see the day. Try this one, then. Obliviscamur, quae dixi. _”_

Ivan understood him. “I studied Latin, a whole four rotten years of it _._ It had to come in handy one day. I can’t do that, By. I can’t forget what you said because I don’t think you were joking. I hope you find someone you can be happy with, though. Just not me. Oh, and By…I’m sorry.”

By waved off his apology. “You don’t have to be sorry, Ivan. It’s the story of my life.”

“I’m not sorry for turning you down. That was never going to happen. I’m sorry for what I said. I think you actually know all about facing adversity with courage.”

By stopped with his coffee cup half way to his mouth. “There you go again with that damned honour stuff. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?”

“We can do that. I’ve got another job for you, though.”

By rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, what this time? Loyalty can wear a bit thin, you know. I need to get back to Vorbarr Sultana.”

Ivan laid a credit chit on the table beside By’s plate. “I need information. I want you to head out to the cafés and bars today, and find out what the public opinion is. And don’t do your usual weasel trick of disappearing when it’s your turn for the round. There should be plenty there to cover it. Karasavas can give you a list of likely places to start with.”

By looked at the chit with some suspicion. “What sort of information? Not the usual who is doing what to whom, I suspect.”

“Oh, you know what I want. What support there still is for Vorclarence, what people really need, what upsets them the most. What they think about me. All that kind of thing.”

“I can do that. It might even help with the other case. I usually find that when the scum starts floating to the surface it all coagulates into one heaving pile of shit.”

Ivan remembered what else By had told him. “Is there any report from ImpSec yet about any cousins you didn’t know you had?”

“Yes! Some good news for once. Nothing matched, apart from a very tenuous link to our friend Vorresiak. That would be the Vorrutyer genes crossing the father’s ones back in the Time of Isolation.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies. It didn’t bear thinking about.” The silence this time stretched as they both contemplated the disaster they’d dodged. What would Aral Vorkosigan have done about a bastard child of Ges Vorrutyer?

By hauled himself to his feet at last. “I may as well get on to it, then. You might not see me for the rest of the day. I’ll keep in touch, though.” He tapped his wrist comm. “If you don’t hear from me by tonight send out the search party.”

“Will do. Thanks, By. I’ll be going to Rotherhall in the morning and I’ll need your advice on a few things.”

“ _Rotherhall_? What time are you going to Rotherhall? If I have to get up early again I’m not going to be a happy camper. I thought New Sheffield was provincial. What can I possibly help you with in Rotherhall?”

“You’ll see. Have you read any of Raine’s books?”

“It’s not really my thing, but after that never-to-be-forgotten supper at Vorkosigan House, yes, I did get my hands on some. She’s really very good, Ivan. I’m sure the next one will be something special, too, now that she’s—”

Ivan stood up in a hurry. “Now that she’s what?”

“If you didn’t want me to know what you got up to with Raine you shouldn’t have told me, should you, Ivan _dahling_. I did mention, you moaned on for hours and hours. Every…little…detail.”

“I do _not_ discuss my girlfriends, Vorrutyer. You’ve made that up.”

By quirked his eyebrows. “If you say so. You’re employing me, after all. I’m sure you use Escobaran moon flower lotion all the time.”

He left Ivan seething with a mix of rage and chagrin. He wouldn’t have spilled his guts to By Vorrutyer, would he? Surely not. By was just yanking his chain. Yes, of course he was, to get back at him for hauling him out of bed three hours early. _But how the hell did he know about Escobaran moon flowers?_

 

Mikhail Karasavas, Aral Vorkosigan, Cordelia and Pym joined him in the District Office at 0900. They had discussion sessions and interviews lined up for a few hours, with a break in the afternoon. Karasavas really had gone above and beyond his strict duty to try and get the District sorted out. He’d had a team of forensic accountants sifting the District books, and there was a formidable inventory of the late Count’s holdings listed out for him. Vorclarence District had been very wealthy, once, even allowing for the industrial decline. He now owned most of those derelict factories he’d seen in Prestwich, as the mortgages had all defaulted. The terraforming was well-advanced, if not complete. They produced a large percentage the Empire’s supply of groats, the favourite staple, and a huge range of farm crops. The heavy industry decline was serious, but surely it had been open to diversification and development, with a bit of good planning. Why on three worlds had the greedy lunatic not done something about that, and his father before him, and been content with what he had instead of turning into such an avaricious slave-driver? There was still more money available than Ivan had ever thought he’d see in his lifetime, all sweated out of the backs of decent, hardworking subjects of the Imperium. This was how revolutions started.

He tapped the bottom line of the financial report with his stylus. “We have to get this back into the economy somehow. These people, no, they’re _my_ people now, need to have some hope of bettering themselves, don’t they, Uncle Aral?”

Cordelia was more offended than any of them. The story of no comconsoles in Marie’s building had really upset her when she’d heard about that.

“Education is always the key. Kindergartens, primary schools, secondary schools, trade schools, night schools, further education. There’s only the one university and they don’t offer distance education. That’s just ridiculous. Prestwich is plenty big enough to support a university. Get them at whatever level they’re at and improve it. You might have to offer scholarships out of the district to start with, in return for five years service back home, until you can get your own higher education facilities up to scratch. I don’t even want to think about what the opportunities for women must be like. You could convert some of the derelict buildings in Prestwich for a college or two there. They’re all solid TOI buildings, craftsman made and built to last. The same with Rotherhall.”

“I’ve got a different plan for Rotherhall, ma’am. I want to take advantage of the lack of modern facilities down there. Wait until you see it and you’ll know what I mean.”

Aral had been looking at the figures. “Tsipis is happy for you to contact him at any time. You might even want to go over to Hassadar and sit down with him in person. He’s recommended two people for you to see, Ivan. You’re never going to find another Tsipis, but both of these two were trained by him. Whichever one you pick should do for you.”

“I’ll take both of them. I need a man here in New Sheffield and another one in Prestwich, one that isn’t interested in running rackets. I spoke to Etienne Vorinnis just before the wedding and he’s happy to come and look at Rotherhall. It’s much smaller than the other two towns and I think he’ll be excellent there as my voice. He told me he’s done with Vorbarr Sultana. He wants a quiet life, but most importantly he’s used to galactics, and that’s who I’m hoping will turn the fortunes around down there.”

Aral nodded. “That’s another good idea you had. A pension isn’t everything to a man who’s lived for duty and we still don’t understand the full psychological effects of cryo-revival. Gregor will be very happy to see him well taken care of. Now, as to strategy, I suggest you start commissioning work, and the more labour intensive the better. Put your investment into the people first. You made a great start with that embroidery you had done for your investiture. Miles told me how you invited all the ladies to your reception afterwards. He’s been quite interesting on the subject, actually.”

“Was he now, in what way?” _Miles and Aral had been discussing him_?

“He’d got into the habit of dismissing you, I think. I’m pretty sure the rest of us have underestimated you as well, truth be told. Pym here has told me a few things. I’m beginning to think Gregor’s made an inspired choice. Once you get on your feet you’ll leave the rest of us in your wake. You’ve got a really solid grounding in logistics with your work in Ops and that’s what’s needed here.”

He’d have to think about that later. He’d never been ambitious, but that was different to doing a job badly. If he was stuck with this District he was going to do his best.

“I understand what you’re saying about the labour intensive industries, sir, but I still want my paint factory. That will need capital investment.”

Cordelia looked at him, her head on one side. “Gregor told us about that. He thought you’d had a regression with your concussion, but obviously that’s not the case. Why do you want a paint factory, Ivan?”

“For morale, more than anything. It should be pretty obvious when you get a look at the poorer residential districts. If you can believe it, Prestwich is even worse. We’ve got a visit scheduled for this afternoon when you’re going to meet up with Yeoman Nilesa again.”

Aral ran his fingers through his hair. “I’d had no idea he was still alive. Kou and I thought we were the only ones left from the old _General Vorkraft_ after she was lost at Escobar.”

Karasavas had the answer to that one. “I interviewed him, after Lord Vorpatril spoke to him. He was in the sick bay on Sergyar, at the fleet depot, when the ship left. He’d broken his ankle and was devastated to miss the action. He was reassigned to fleet base duties, including prisoner of war processing, and then he was actually in the brig for insubordination round about the time you would have been there, my lady. He didn’t approve of the way the camp was managed, apparently, and let people know what your view on prisoners was, Count.”

“Good for him,” Aral growled. “I wish there’d been a lot more like him. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see him at the time, though. Someone should have told me about him.”

Cordelia laid a hand on his arm. “You _were_ rather busy at the time, if I recall. We’ll go and call on him after lunch and talk about old times. He might even like to come back to Sergyar with us.” There was a silence as they looked at each other, remembering.

Karasavas got them back to the agenda items. “As I mentioned yesterday, security is well under control across the District apart from Prestwich. The organised crime there has moved underground. I’d prefer you not to travel openly in the town as too many people had free access to lethal weapons there for my liking. We haven’t found all of them, yet.” He sounded quite menacing on the quietly spoken ‘yet’.

Ivan acknowledged the problem. “I didn’t make too many friends there, did I? I really need to get some armsmen. I thought I might start with ten.”

Pym was quick to see the logic of the half-score. “That would work, my lord. You really only need one or two for the night shift, and three or four each for the day and swing shift, allowing for leave and training. They’d form the nucleus, then you add one or two a year as candidates come up. You don’t want all your armsmen retiring at once in twenty years’ time.”

“There’s one man I’d really like you to take a look at, Pym, over in Rotherhall. His name’s Fox. Twenty year man in service security, and he has a few opinions of his own about honour and justice that I rather like. He’s heading up the municipal guard for me there, but it’s not a job he wants long term. I’d really like your input, if Count Vorkosigan gives his permission.”

Aral waved away the need for his consent. “Any help you need, Ivan. I have a few matters to deal with tomorrow so I’m happy to stay here in New Sheffield and relax—” Cordelia snorted with incredulity before he continued, “—so you take Pym and a few of the others. Would you like to go, too, Cordelia?”

That tag-teaming was at work again, Ivan could see. Was it actual telepathy, or just thirty-odd years of experience? The countess nodded.

“I’d love to go. I never really had a chance to see any more of Barrayar than Vorbarra Sultana and our own District. I’ve heard Rotherhall is very picturesque.”

“I’d really appreciate a Betan’s point of view, especially what works and what doesn’t work and what the interest would be in seeing the old Barrayar. It’s not market day, but that would be a big part of the attraction, too. I’m planning on tours of the old factories, especially the cooperage, all that wood, don’t you know? Betans would love that, and if I can talk Eccles into it, hay waggon rides with his blacks. We could do honeymoon tours or even weddings. Weddings would really work, come to think of it. We don’t have any forms to fill in. All we need are groats and we’ve got plenty of those. When the fruit trees are blossoming would be the best time for wedding packages. I’ve got the vids of Eccles and his team heading for the wedding. Raine—” It was hard even to say her name, but he pressed on. “Raine took a copy with her to Beta, actually. She’s going to talk to a few people, too. Vorberg had them all ready for us when he met us at the shuttleport.”

Aral shook his head at Ivan’s torrent of ideas. “I thought Miles had cornered the market on forward momentum. It looks like it’s a family trait, after all.”

Ivan shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of good examples, sir. If the job’s there, you just do it. Use what you’ve got and make the best of it. The sooner it’s all organised the sooner I can take a break.”

_Yes, a nice long break. Lazing by a swimming pool sipping a cocktail. A tall, girly drink with a straw and ice cubes and a little umbrella in it._

 


	6. Not nearly as pretty as his uncle

 

 

Aral and Cordelia fell silent as their convoy reached the residential district of New Sheffield where Marie had lived with her mother. Even with the blue sky above them the sun didn’t penetrate to ground level. The breeze funnelled down the streets to form a wind tunnel, whipping up street litter and dust into unpleasant little whirlwinds. It was much as Ivan had remembered, if not worse. There’d been no attempt to decorate the streets for the wedding, by the looks. The first sign of life was the small crowd gathered round the apartment block they were headed for. The cheering wasn’t as exuberant as it had been the day before in the main square, but Ivan was surprised that there was any cheering at all. Cordelia pulled her jacket a little more tightly around herself as she exited the ground car and looked up at the looming buildings around her. Her face was a picture.

“Ivan, _I’ll_ finance your paint factory. I’ve never been so appalled in all my life. It’s like living in—” She broke off as she obviously couldn’t think of anything bad enough to compare the place with. She pulled herself together and pinned a bright smile on her face as she walked over to greet the crowds.

Aral was more to the point. “Knock every other one down and plant something green in between. This is horrific. I’ve seen better prison camps.” …And he probably had, Ivan thought. At least his own instincts had been right.

Yeoman Nilesa stood waiting on the steps to the entrance. He braced himself to attention as Aral and Cordelia approached but she ran up the steps to throw her arms around him in a delighted hug.

“It’s so _good_ to see you, Yeoman. I’ve never forgotten that bowl of spiced stew you made for me and Ensign Dubauer. It seems just like yesterday, sometimes.”

Aral reached them a bit more sedately but his firm handshake was just as eloquent. “I talked to Kou about you last night, Nilesa. He was delighted, too. He told me to remind you about the funeral dinner you cooked.”

Even at his advanced age Nilesa could still blush. “It was all Radnov’s doing, Captain, I mean Admiral. I’m glad he got his, at the last. But that was a pretty fine dinner we had, in your memory. Say hello to Ensign Koudelka for me. Commodore, I should say.” The three of them stood together on the top step, Cordelia with her hand through his arm and Aral with a hand on his other shoulder. Ivan turned to face the crowd and held up his hand for silence. He was better prepared than he had been the day before.

“Friends, we welcome their excellencies the Viceroy and Vicereine of Sergyar, Count and Countess Vorkosigan, well known to all of you here. What many of you perhaps did not know is that your own Tomás Nilesa is an old comrade-in-arms of the Viceroy when he was the Captain of the _General Vorkraft—”_ He broke off as some wag in the crowd shouted, “Oh, yes we do, my lord. We never hear the end of it!”

Ivan grinned and continued. “—and he was also the first Barrayaran on Sergyar to offer Commander Cordelia Naismith of the Betan Survey the hospitality of a meal, even if she was Captain Vorkosigan’s prisoner, at the time. And we all know how that story turned out.” He waited for the laughter to fade. “On a more serious note, while we allow some private time for the old soldiers to reminisce, I’m happy to talk to you here as your Count. Improvements are coming to this area, but it would be arrogant of me to tell you what you need. I am not going to promise to rectify all of your problems, but I am going to promise to listen to you. If I don’t have the time to listen to you all today you can contact my District Office and I will read your messages, so please keep them short and to the point. I must point out ImpSec do get to read them first, so I would suggest it’s best to give me to my face the more creative suggestions of where I can go and what I can do it with. As you know, ImpSec does not have a sense of humour. Thank you all. We’ll say goodbye to their excellencies for now,” he waited until Cordelia and Aral waved and disappeared inside with Nilesa and Karasavas, “and now we can relax, and you can tell me what you need me to hear.”

Relax, hell. The Count’s armsmen had disappeared inside with the couple, along with most of the ImpSec squad. Ivan felt as if he had a target between his shoulder-blades as he walked towards the crowds. There were hundreds of windows looking down on them. One bravado with a weapon and it would be one of the shortest countships in history. Fenerty was suddenly a lot more acceptable to Ivan than he had been since they’d met at the transfer station.

More people wanted to shake hands with him than complain. Ivan spotted the man Marie called ‘Barnie’, her old next door neighbour. Ivan had a holocube for him, including a copy of a picture he’d received just that morning when he’d talked to her. There was Marie, a giant sandcastle, and what looked suspiciously like his mother’s feet peeking out from behind it. Simon wouldn’t have had that elegant pedicure, he devoutly hoped. Barnie grudgingly accepted it. “I hope you’ve got a good school picked out for her, my lord,” he said. “She should be starting next term.”

‘Indeed, yes. She’ll be attending the Princess and Countess Olivia Vorbarra Vorkosigan elementary school. The PCOVV specialises in arts, languages and humanities. I think she’ll be very happy there. It’s less than a kilometre away from Voralys House.”

Barnie nodded and Ivan moved on. The children here were still much too thin, and they could never run and play in the sunshine, or get to attend specialist elementary schools. He knew emergency rations and vitamins were being distributed, but it still made him heartsick to see the wee mites looking so pale and wan. This was going to be Wally’s job, if he could possibly persuade him to retire to the District. There were plenty of rooms at the District House. He and Aceline could have a suite. He’d have to think about what Aceline could do, only if she wanted to, of course. She hadn’t been well, either. He needed to get Ekaterin down here, too. She’d have some suggestions for creepers to grow up the buildings, or something, _anything_ , to soften up the view.

The complaint he heard over and over again was the lack of employment, most especially the lack of opportunities for the children, apart from sending their sons away to be plasma-cannon fodder. That, at least, was something he was prepared to commit to. He’d have to have a good look at Vorloupulous’s Law, though, to see what he could and couldn’t do. People would be so suspicious if Dorca Vorbarra’s great great grandson really did employ two thousand cooks.

Karasavas had shown the Count and Countess around Marie’s still-empty flat before they came back down to the street. Aral’s face looked grim. “Best day’s work you ever did, Ivan, getting that sweet little girl out of this hellhole. It doesn’t need a paint job. It needs a gravitic imploder lance. I feel really bad about all the ones left behind.”

“I know sir, but folks haven’t been complaining about their quarters. They’ve been complaining about the lack of jobs. They could put up with this—” he waved his hands around, “—if they could save up enough money to get out of here. As it is, they’re stuck with it.”

“Nilesa is going to come back to Sergyar with us. We’ve got an opening for a gardener. I wouldn’t want to employ him as a cook, mind you. I’ve told him to bring his kit round to the District Residence, with your permission. We’ll take him when we go. He’s got no ties, here.”

“Of course, sir. That would be wonderful. I’ll send a ground car for him. He might even get the chance to catch up with Commodore Koudelka, too.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of it. Let me go shake a few more hands, and then we’ll get back to base. I need to check in with Guy Allegre. I thought he would have had a breakthrough by now.”

“And I need to see what By’s turned up for me. Does it worry you, sir, to be working so closely with a Vorrutyer?”

“Hell, no. He’s nothing like his Uncle Ges. Not nearly so pretty, for a start. Richars, now, he’s enough to wake the ghosts. Thank the stars Gregor wasn’t stuck with _him_ as Count. And any further little Vorrutyers will be gene cleaned. I can’t imagine any child of Olivia Koudelka being a piece of work like Ges.” Aral chuckled. “I wonder if Kou will be over the shock by the time we get back. It takes a lot to knock him sideways, but that engagement surely did. But you’d know what that was like, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t remind me sir!” Ivan shuddered. “Olivia’s one lucky girl, though, that’s all I can say.”

Aral just rolled his eyes. “I really don’t want to know, Ivan. Living with Cordelia is bad enough for me to try and get my head around.”

—Ivan let that one go through to the keeper.

At dinner that night By Vorrutyer looked slightly the worse for wear. It was the way Ivan was normally used to seeing him around Vorbarr Sultana, half-drunk, half dissolute and three-quarters bad. He knew about that quarter good now, though, and that made a difference. He watched in fascination as By drank a glass of _water._ “You getting too old for this, By?”

By cast him a fulminating look. “ _Not_ if I hadn’t been dragged out of bed three hours early. It is also very hard work when the locals treat you with _respect_. That’s something I’m not at all used to, I can assure you. You have no idea how boring it is, making pleasant chit-chat.”

“Did you find out anything useful with your pleasant chit-chat?”

“I did find a couple of unemployed armsmen. You might want to take a look at them, Ivan. They seemed like decent men. One eventually told me about not shooting your cousin Miles. They were with…Walton, was it? Yes, you introduced me to Walton’s widow yesterday. Anyway, there are two left. Pym was there and spoke to them, so he could tell you the story. I also found out that Walton, it appears, has a son, due to finish his twenty with ImpSec very shortly. It’s been a family tradition for five generations to be armsmen to the Count.”

Ivan had forgotten about the two others who had been under house arrest. He’d have to check Karasavas’ reports about them, but a couple of fully trained armsmen might be the way to go, if they could be trusted. He didn’t know if he could. It would all depend on where their loyalty lay, in the end. He’d like to do something for Walton’s family, too. Karasavas could have the job of looking into Walton junior, as well.

“Thanks, By, that’s all worth looking at. Did you get anything else?”

“I talked to the Count’s driver and pilot. He wasn’t a sworn armsman, unusually, not like the Vorkosigans. There’s been a lot of traffic between Vorclarence, Count Vorguriyev and Lord Vorbataille—Not the old Count, but the heir—Plenty of visits to Vorguriyev District, one disastrous one, or so he said, to Vorbataille’s and after that they either met here or over in Vorguriyev Moletai. Never in the capital. My informant didn’t know what the visits were about, but it was all very bland on the surface. Supposedly trade talks but no trading ever happened. I got a bad vibe from him, though. I don't trust him. I’m passing all of this on to General Allegre.”

Ivan considered. “Any hints about Vorresiak?”

“No, nothing. It’s early days. Nobody trusts me well enough, yet.”

Aral joined in the conversation. “You’ve made a good start, Vorrutyer. I’m smelling a rat and it smells like Vorguriyev. He makes his presence felt too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

“I shouldn’t have blown him up, should, I sir. Vorclarence, I mean.” Ivan said. “General Allegre might have got something out of him with fast-penta. I’m trying to work out what.”

“You did what you had to do, Ivan. He could have done a lot more damage if you let him live.” Aral was being generous, but Ivan knew he’d done the wrong thing. Miles would have had the intelligence angle thought through, and wouldn’t have acted on impulse like that. It was just another example of how Miles was suited to intrigue and weaseling and he just wasn’t. He’d better just stick to what he knew best.

Cordelia had a strange look in her eye as she watched By during dinner. Ivan had seen it before, and usually he was very glad when it wasn’t directed at him. Being the recipient of Cordelia’s gratitude was something of a two-edged sword, and Cordelia was very grateful to By just right now. She finally made her move when the conversation died away.

“Would you be interested in Colonial Administration, By, once you’re done with ImpSec? We could use you.”

By put his knife and fork down and took a large mouthful of his wine. Not the water. Ivan grinned.

“Er, I hadn’t thought about it, ma’am. I’m happy doing what I’m doing for now. My cousin Dono mentioned something about a job in Vorrutyer District, but I prefer to earn my own living for as long as I can and avoid, what would you call it, nepotism. I’d be promoted over the backs of more worthy people if I did that.”

“You wouldn’t be doing that on Sergyar. It’s the people we’re short of, not the jobs.”

It was time to rescue him. Cordelia had that gleam in her eye. Ivan broke in. “By is working for me, right now, aunt. What I want him to do is a new job, as well, apart from this intelligence stuff. He’ll be able to do it in the capital, too, where he feels more comfortable. I suppose we all have to think to the future though. At least you’ve got a few options now, By.”

“Yes,” By agreed, faintly. “It does look like that, doesn’t it?” He didn’t seem to be overflowing with gratitude quite yet.

Cordelia and Aral returned to their rooms shortly afterwards while By and Ivan lingered to finish their drinks.

“Under martial law,” Aral joked, on his way out. “My Captain’s orders.”

“It looks more like marital law, sir,” By quipped. “Either way, best not to argue.”

“You’re quite right, Vorrutyer. I’ve never won an argument with her yet.”

The door closed behind them as Ivan topped up By’s glass. “And he loves every minute of it. It’s a bit of an eye opener to see them in private, isn’t it?”

By shuddered eloquently. “Exquisitely nerve-racking is more like it. I’m always waiting for one or the other of them to…pounce. Thank you for diverting the avalanche, though.”

“It’s only temporary,” Ivan warned. “She’s got a mind like an elephant. She won’t forget.”

“Hopefully I’ll be several thousand light years away when she does remember, with them back on Sergyar. I think I need to keep a low profile.”

They enjoyed their drinks in silence for a few moments, before By changed the subject. “Ivan, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of what General Allegre is working on, but I’ve heard enough to know it’s up there with Vordarian. If there was going to be a coup, do you have an idea who the figurehead might be, other than yourself?”

“Rest assured it’s not going to be me. I’d cut my throat, first. Yes, I do have some idea that there’s someone out there, and someone else pulling the strings. I can’t say anything more.”

“You don’t have to. Believe me, I'd really rather not know, although I think I’ve guessed. So, no-one has enough influence with the military these days to win some of them over, not like Vordarian, so the er, clout, would have to be in a different form. Am I on the right track?”

Ivan glared at him. “You are, and you have the same weasel brain Miles has. Go on. Let me hear the rest of your theory.”

By shrugged. “The clout has to come from somewhere else and it has to get here somehow. Nobody, in their right minds, or out of them, for that matter, would invite Cetagandan clout back to Barrayar. It’s not military clout we’re talking about at all. I suspect it’s coming from Jackson’s Whole and I suspect it’s very, very nasty. All that uproar with Gregor and the Joint Council and the fact that no-one has leaked _any_ of that yet lets me believe it’s bio-weapons.”

He saw the look on Ivan’s face. “So, I’m right. I was up half the night thinking about that incident at Shoko’s. The more I think about it the more I’m convinced it wasn’t a friendly meeting between Counts Vorbataille and Vorguriyev. What if Vorbataille wanted to warn Vorguriyev off messing with his son, and Vorguriyev was putting the frighteners on Vorbataille to warn _him_ to back off from trying to extricate his son from whatever it is he’s got himself into. It was a perfect opportunity for him when he saw Raine. He gets his man to scare her _and_ the Vorbatailles at the same time. Countess Vorbataille was the only one to be injured, remember? Vorguriyev would probably have been delighted if she’d been killed, and maybe even the count, too. It was a Vorbataille armsman who dropped the attacker, not a Vorguriyev one, even though they were there. I saw them.”

Ivan’s head was beginning to throb, and it wasn’t the wine. He’d been very circumspect this evening after his blinder two nights ago. By went on.

“How’s this for a theory? Louis Vorbataille has the brains and the transport to be a go-between. I happen to know he has a very fast yacht. He goes match racing with Theo Vormercier when they can both scrape up the funds. I also happen to know Louis is on very bad terms with his father the Count at the moment, even though said father is trying to get him out of trouble. Vorclarence supplied the wherewithal, which is why he’d bled his District white, and that leaves Vorguriyev to be the master puppeteer. He must have your Vorresiak whom I have worked out has to be the reason behind all this. Mad Yuri’s ghost could work that one out, the way ImpSec is scrambling to find him. He’s not a Vorrutyer, but his family tree crosses ours. The obvious answer is he’s a Vorbarra. No-one else would be a strong enough candidate to risk treason over. Who is he, Ivan? Serg’s son? Gregor’s brother?”

 

 


	7. A Voralys armsman - maybe

 

 

Ivan felt like tearing out his hair. “ _Shit_ , Vorrutyer. I’m not saying yes or no to your fantastical theories, but you do realise, don’t you, if you can think of them my maniac cousin probably worked this out yesterday. And he will tell the Emperor, after he’s finished strangling me, and this is _not_ my fault. The person he should be strangling is his father, and Guy Allegre. And once he’s finished with them, he’ll start on the rest of ImpSec.”

An evil expression crossed By’s face. “Do you ever win at poker, Ivan? I very much doubt it.”

Ivan stared into his wineglass, morosely swirling the contents before he took another swallow. “The whole thing is just _wrong_.”

“All four ways of wrong, but it’s all way above our pay grade. Mine is miraculously back to IS 9, just by the way. Do I have you to thank for that as well, or, no, I suppose that’s your cousin’s way of saying thank you, isn’t it? I detect his feather-touch at work.”

“Miles? Feather-touch? Since when—oh.” Ivan fell silent. By just rolled his eyes.

“I really do need a worthier opponent, Ivan. Not to worry. I’ll just say good morning to Aral Vorkosigan tomorrow and I’ll feel as small as one of his son’s butter bugs.”

“Yeah. You’ve got to hand it to that maple mead ambrosia stuff, though. He’s going to make an absolute killing with that.”

They both fell silent, contemplating the unfairness of it all. Ivan eventually heaved himself to his feet. “Bed time. And no, I haven’t changed my mind and that was _not_ an invitation, before you get another snark in.”

He left By sitting in solitary splendour with the remains of the last bottle.

 

To everyone’s surprise, Aral had changed his mind overnight and decided to come with them the next day. Major Karasavas nearly had a conniption when he found out, but thirty minutes of rapid work on comms had him more or less resigned when they eventually set out. Ivan’s run that morning hadn’t been _quite_ so painful as the day before, Marie was still enthralled with the ocean and even By seemed stoical about his sorry lot. It was another beautiful day. The contrast between the New Sheffield ghetto and Rotherhall’s main square was so marked as to be almost obscene. The sun shone onto massed garlands of oak leaves and flowers, pennants flew and banners billowed from all the main buildings and every last one of the six-deep crowd of onlookers waved either a Voralys or a Vorkosigan favour, with a generous sprinkling of Vorbarra thrown in for good measure. The warm yellow stone and the black of ancient oak beams formed a picturesque setting for the spectacle. The cheering started as the lightflyer landed in the square and rose to a cacophony as Aral and Cordelia set foot on the red carpet. Ivan didn’t think it could get much louder but it most certainly did as he exited the flyer behind the viceregal couple.

“Everybody’s hero, aren’t you, Ivan?” By had to shout into his ear to make himself heard. “Just like Caesar’s triumphant entry into Rome.”

“They’re good folk here, By. You’ll see.”

The municipal guard commander, Marcus Fox, stood side by side with Major Karasavas, although he topped his height by a good six inches. He spared a few seconds from his constant surveillance of the crowd to shake Ivan’s hand and shout a promise of a meeting shortly. It was hopeless to try and say anything else. Even after they’d circled the square and reached the little dais outside the Town Hall it was still impossible to hear himself speak. Aral, with that charismatic grin on his face that made him look at least ten years younger, urged him forwards.

“Go on. None of us have got a chance of making ourselves heard.”

Ivan held up a hand. The front ranks quieted, and gradually the noise abated as the big screen behind him let the rear ranks of the crowd see he was waiting to speak. Ivan mentally ripped up the speech he’d had prepared.

“My friends, I’m truly humbled by your welcome, and your welcome for Count and Countess Vorkosigan. I did tell them about you, but I must confess I underestimated the warmth of feeling so obvious here today. I want to let Count Vorkosigan talk to you, as he will not in all likelihood be as frequent a visitor to Rotherhall as I intend to be. It is a great privilege for me to introduce to you the hero of Barrayar, Admiral, Viceroy and Count, Aral Vorkosigan.”

Aral waited quietly for the uproar to settle. Finally a hushed silence awaited his words.

“Barrayar has had many heroes and overcome so many threats to the safety of the Imperium.” He glanced around the crowd. “I see before me many who would remember the bad old days, from the Cetagandan invasion to the civil wars that so nearly wrecked our peace and prosperity. Many of you have made great sacrifices and have suffered equally great losses. Recently you have been afflicted with inordinate sadness at seeing so mighty a district fall to the sick excesses of the man who was sworn to protect you and failed in that trust."

He paused, looking around at them all before he went on. "You have had a change of name and fortune, and I can guarantee you that your new Count is a man of the deepest honour. I have already seen the efforts he has made and will continue to make to bring prosperity, security and by no means the least, happiness, back to your homes and your firesides. Rotherhall will always be as dear to his heart as I assure you, it has become today to my Countess and me. I thank you all for your wonderful welcome and I present to you once again, your own Count, Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys.”

There was no way to shut them up this time. Ivan just stood and acknowledged the applause. He knew he was grinning like a fool, and saw that Cordelia was as well. Finally he remembered the vid disc in his pocket and waved it to the crowd. He got the attention of the tech running the display system and passed it over to him. In a few seconds the vision of Blossom in all her caparisoned glory appeared on the screen and the sight of the Barrayar Blacks and their procession to the Imperial Wedding held them all spellbound. There was a roar for Eccles, and Sinclair, and a bigger one for each of the three apprentice lads. Ivan felt a lump of pride come into his throat and saw about him not a few faces with tears running down their cheeks as they watched the Emperor and his new Empress take a drink of the District’s best beer and perry.

Ivan shepherded Aral and Cordelia away as the final scenes came up. If they didn’t take this chance to escape they wouldn’t get another one. Fox, Fenerty, Karasavas, Pym and the armsmen eased a passage through the crowd for them and they made their way to the hotel Ivan had stayed in on his tour of investigation.

In the comparative quiet of the dining room of _The Black Sheep_ they took a communal deep breath.

“I have never seen anything like that,” Cordelia said. “You’ve got them eating out of your hands, Ivan. What did you do to these people?”

Ivan shrugged his shoulders and gestured helplessly. “Beats me, aunt. I got their municipal guard straightened out, and jobs for those three lads, but other than that I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just any excuse for a party.”

Aral shook his head. “No, son. That was for _you_. I suspect your friends Eccles and Sinclair have spread the word already. Never underestimate pride. That’s what you’ve given them, from your investiture to the Imperial wedding. That wedding vid was all Rotherhall locals on view, too. They’re one up on New Sheffield and Prestwich. They’ll be talking about it for the next fifty years. You’re one of them, now.”

Ivan just blinked. He didn’t really hear much past Aral saying ‘son’, or the look on his face when he said it. It continued to amaze him that Uncle Aral actually _was_ proud of him. He’d said it before but Ivan had really only half believed it. Perhaps he should just get rid of those doubts now.

Cordelia disappeared with the landlady on a tour of the building, two armsmen escorting them, much to Mrs Williams’ wide-eyed consternation. Byerly headed off on Ivan’s recommendation to view the beer cellars with no escort apart from the tap-man. Ivan, Aral and Pym remained behind with Marcus Fox. Karasavas listened to a message on his wrist com and indicated for Fenerty to move back into the hall with him to deal with it. Pym began a casual conversation, but it wasn’t long before Fox folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“What is it you really want to know?” He asked. “I can spot an interrogation when I see it.”

Pym nodded acknowledgment. “I wanted to see for myself if what Count Voralys told me was the truth. He’s a good judge of people.”

“And?”

“And that’s for the Count to say. I’m happy.”

Now was as good a time as any. Ivan took a deep breath. “I’m looking for armsmen, Fox, and the first person I thought of was you.”

Marcus Fox looked as if he hadn’t heard Ivan quite correctly. “Did you say _armsmen_? That’s a…surprise, my lord. I wasn’t expecting an offer like that. I wouldn’t have thought I was good enough.” He was keeping a fair check on his emotions, if Ivan was any judge. He had a very thoughtful look on his face, although his breathing had quickened considerably.

Ivan went on. “If you think you’d like to know more, Pym has agreed to have you shadow him for a week and get a good look at the lifestyle. There’ll be a lot of travel involved, a lot of boredom and a lot of self-sacrifice, too. It’s not an easy job and only special men can do it. You’d be well aware there are a maximum of twelve hundred armsmen in the whole of the Imperium, usually less. If you do agree we’ll send you to a training course run by ImpSec, more intense than any service training you would have experienced, and Pym has also offered ongoing help for you with anything you need.”

Fox shifted from one foot to another, and back again. “You really think I can do it, my lord?”

Ivan nodded. “I think we can learn how to do it together. I also think if I do take your oath I’ll have your true loyalty until the day you die, as I know you would rather die than break oath. And you will have my trust and my hand held over you until the day _I_ die, as I have never broken my oath as Vorpatril, and would never do so as Voralys.”

Fox swallowed hard. There was total silence in the room.

Aral broke the deadlock at last. “It’s a very solemn undertaking, and takes a lot of consideration. It’s a wise man who doesn’t answer without due thought. If it’s not a flat _no_ I suggest you take Pym up on his offer and see what the life is like.”

“Aye, my lord Count. I’ll do that. Count Voralys, even if in the end I cannot take oath with you, I’ll never forget that you asked me. In itself that is a very great honour.”

Ivan shook Fox’s hand. “This will give me a chance to see what your deputy is like. There’s no better time than the present to start. Give the man a call and let him know he’s ‘it’ once this convoy leaves town. It should be an interesting test for him.”

When Cordelia returned and By was persuaded out of the beer cellar they went on a short tour of the surrounding area to see the hop fields, orchards and grazing herds of animals, including extensive flocks of sheep, cattle and even goats. With harvest coming up the grain crops stood thick and heavy as far as the eye could see. There were great stands of oak and ash forests, their massive limbs overhanging the roads to form tunnels dappled with green as the sun’s rays slanted through. Cordelia loved every minute of it. They finished up at Eccles’ farm, to see the Barrayar Blacks and where they were due to have lunch. Sinclair and his boys were also there, to meet the Vorkosigans. Ben Eccles was just about bursting with pride when he spoke to Cordelia. There was one thing that had him worried, though.

“Count Voralys explained to me yesterday, your ladyship, that you only eat vat or plant protein. We don’t have the vat grown sort round here, but ’appen you’ll like a nice leek and potato pie my wife made especially? There’s salad and olives and pickled aubergines, too.”

‘It all sounds wonderful, Mr Eccles,” Cordelia told him, “and it was very thoughtful of Count Voralys to remember to warn you. I can eat animal protein if I have to, but it’s not something I especially enjoy, so thank you very much. We are, of course, expecting your wife to join us for the lunch, aren’t we?”

Ivan hoped he was smart enough to work out that was Cordelia speak for ‘she better not be slaving away in the kitchen while we’re enjoying ourselves,’ but Eccles was able to agree anyway, as Ivan had warned him about that as well.

They lingered over lunch in the quiet and solitude of the farmhouse garden, sitting under a passionfruit trellis and enjoying the views of the rolling countryside. Even By relaxed, although Ivan knew he was much more accustomed to an urban cityscape.

“So what do you think, Aunt Cordelia,” Ivan asked her. “Would Betan tourists come here?”

“Absolutely, Ivan. It’s so different to anything Beta has to offer. That avenue of trees was enough for me on its own. You’d get them from Pol and Vervain too. Escobar would be a harder sell. You’d maybe get younger travellers but it’s a bit like asking Barrayarans to go to Cetaganda isn’t it? I don’t know about Komarr. Only people that can cope with the open space would come from there, although you can always issue them with breath masks if they want. Rotherhall is fantastic. It deserves to be seen.”

“We can put them up in _The Black Sheep_ to start with, but if numbers grow I’m going to have a tourist hotel with more modern facilities built out behind the Town Hall, maybe run an old tram in close to the square somewhere. A horse drawn one would be awesome, don’t you think? There’s some land out there that wouldn’t intrude on the aesthetics of the town. We’ll keep the facades authentic, but then people can have a choice of what they’re used to, or the true Time of Isolation experience in town. At a premium, of course.” He winked. “We’ll need a shuttleport, eventually, but they can use New Sheffield for now and we’ll ferry them over.”

Ben Eccles was all for the idea. “That would mean work for the lads with the building, and work for the lasses in the hotel, and tour guides and town guides and all the rest. It’s wonderful.”

Ivan very carefully didn’t look at Cordelia. A female carpenter was one idea too far for Ben Eccles.

“So what did you need _me_ for, Ivan?” By asked. “You seem to have everything planned out already.”

“Ah, yes. By. Everyone who works for the Voralys estate will need an authentic Time of Isolation uniform. That includes but wouldn’t be limited to hotel staff, tour guides, municipal guard, town officials, market stall holders, tram drivers, grooms, entertainers and well, you name it. They would have to look authentic but still be comfortable and serviceable. I want everything to be made in the District. I’ll check with the regulations and see who can be issued with swords, but I think that will only be my armsmen. You’ll just have to design concealed pockets to hold the shocksticks and stunners for the guards. I don’t want them interfering with efficiency.”

Ivan thought for a moment and went on. “I’d need logos, advertising material, stationery, banners—Absolutely everything. You can work in Vorbarr Sultana. There’d be heaps of stuff in the Imperial archives and the museum at Vorhartung Castle. I’d want you to employ local District people to help you out, though. It’s a massive job.”

“I’m sure Ekaterin would love to be involved, too,” Cordelia added. “It’s right up her street and will distract her from, well, you know.”

“Miles.” Ivan laughed. “He’s going to be awful by the time his wedding comes around. Is it still going to be in the autumn?”

“I think they’ve settled on Winterfair. We’ll be hiding on Sergyar so you and Gregor are going to have to save him from himself, Ivan.”

Now there was a prospect. One for his worst nightmares. By still looked like he was contemplating his own worst nightmares. For once he was completely lost for words.

Ivan tried to encourage him. “You don’t have to physically _do_ it all yourself, By. The men Tsipis has organised for me will sort all the commercial details. I need you to be the artistic director. Give the whole thing some of your flair and savoire faire. Speak to your feminine side.”

By still wasn’t talking. He opened his mouth but only a few strangled sounds came out. He reached for his tankard of cider and downed it in one go.

“Cordelia?” Aral had been talking quietly to Pym while the other exchanged played out. “Would you like to stay on for dinner in town? Eccles mentioned earlier that he and Mr Sinclair are hosting a spit roast and dancing at the sports ground, to say thankyou to everyone who helped them with the District contribution to the wedding. It might be fun.”

Cordelia said nothing for a minute, just regarded her husband with a cool, level stare. Ivan watched in fascination as the Count looked away from her direct gaze and fidgeted.

“What are you up to, Aral?” She inquired. “I don’t equate you with spontaneous decisions. What’s going on?”

The fearsome warrior quailed under his wife’s scrutiny. He gave her one of his grins. “Pym has just let me know Miles is waiting for us in New Sheffield."

 

 


	8. Two Moon Night

 

 

“Coward.”

Only Cordelia would ever get away with saying that to Aral Vorkosigan. Together with Ivan and By they excused themselves from the rest of the lunch guests and walked out of earshot.

Aral acknowledged the accusation. “You’re absolutely right. It’s cowardice. I want to avoid lying to my son for as long as I possibly can.”

Ivan couldn’t see that lying would do any good, not now. “Count Vorkosigan, sir, Byerly knows everything. He’s worked out the whole story. I told him nothing, but if he could do it, Miles surely has.”

By agreed. “That’s right sir. Ivan wouldn’t confirm or deny anything, but it’s obvious, really. There’s a rogue Vorbarra on the loose out there.”

Aral sighed. “Miles is going to be…upset with us. I think we’ll stay for dinner, anyway. He could join us in twenty minutes if he wanted to. How long will it be until Gregor finds out, though? It’s so frustrating. I can’t believe Guy Allegre hasn’t come up with anything. The trail must be very, very cold.”

“Miles won’t leave a stone unturned.” Cordelia said, before she came to a decision. “Yes, we’ll stay. Even the condemned prisoner gets to eat a hearty meal, after all.”

The Rotherhall sports and social ground lay in a natural amphitheatre just over a kilometre from the Town Square. Even though the sun shone well into the evening this close to Midsummer, it had started to dip in the late afternoon and long shadows crept across the synthaflex running track to the central grassed oval which held the javelin and team sports courts. In front of the main stands there were three martial arts areas, each with a mat about eight metres square and each surrounded by a wide safety zone. To the south of the main track the archery butts looked to be well-used and off to the north there appeared to be a shooting range and a dressage field. The fixtures looked worn and dated but the potential was obvious. When Ivan and the vice-regal party arrived the main activity of the crowd of well over a hundred people centred round a huge fire pit to the north of the main stand where a large animal turned on a spit jack. Ivan guessed it was a cow and devoutly hoped Cordelia wouldn’t turn on her heel and head back the way she came when she saw it.

The smell of roasting meat over a charcoal fire instantly transported him back to his childhood and summer holidays at Vorkosigan Surleau. The memories hit so hard as to be almost painful; running around in bare feet and shorts, Bothari stretched to his limits keeping Miles from falling into the glowing coals or dismantling the jack to see how it worked, himself and Elena taking turns to wind up the spit while Miles begged to help even though he had casts on both of his arms, or even that one time Gregor had been with them, when he’d got away from the prep school and they took turns diving for sinkers off the little landing stage until they all turned blue with cold and his mother had told them all off for risking the Emperor’s health…

Behind the main fire pit there was a vertical spit turning past an electric heating element, with an amorphous mass of something starting to brown nicely.

Ivan didn’t know what it was but Karasavas supplied the details. “That’s a gyros, my lord. They found some vat lamb for the Countess. Slap on some tzatziki and it’ll be just like the real thing.”

“That would work. Betans would like that, I’m sure. Did they have them in the TOI?”

Karasavas rolled his eyes. “Not with electricity, Count, but the Greek districts had mechanical versions very similar to these they used in front of open fires or in ovens. And obviously, not with vat protein. We have to be practical, though.”

Before anyone got down to the serious business of the evening Sinclair and Eccles called for everyone’s attention. Farmer Eccles was obviously the talker of the two and he made the main speech.

“We’d like to welcome our new Count and his honoured guests here this evening. We never thought we’d see Count and Countess Vorkosigan in these parts, did we, friends? It’s something we’ll be able to tell all t’grandchildren about, if they aren’t here already. We’re here tonight because Count Voralys did Rotherhall t’honour of asking us to represent our District at t’Imperial Wedding. Little did we think when we accepted that he meant to _pay_ us for our time and trouble, not to mention the beer and ale and everything else.”

Ivan and Aral exchanged startled glances at this unconscious revelation of the true state of affairs in the previous Vorclarence District. Eccles had no idea he’d said anything controversial as he went on.

“So you can all imagine our amazement when we realised our bottom lines aren’t nearly as low as they used t’be. Everyone who donated their time or their goods to the cause will be compensated very shortly. Chas Sinclair here kept a strict record so we would know who t’invite tonight, but it will come in very handy to work out how to distribute the funds. This here get together is just t’say thank’ee, one and all. Here’s to Voralys District, and all who dwell here!”

Mrs Williams from _The Black Sheep_ had brought over a couple of barrels of beer. The crowd all raised their tankards in a solemn toast, but that was the start and the end of formalities. Everyone sat round the fire pit as the sun went down and the talk circulated as fast as the beer did. The traditional English dancing wasn’t something Ivan, Cordelia and Aral, or even By for that matter, were too familiar with so they sat back to watch with interest. There seemed to be a lot of jingling bells, foot stamping and staffs being struck. The die-hard traditionalists had special white costumes adorned with flowers and more bells, but everyone that wanted got up and had a go each time a new set formed. It would probably be fun, at that.

By the time the meals were served it just seemed natural to start singing. Ivan had never heard _The Battle of Prestwich Green._ It must have been a historical tune because he was as sure as hell was hot there was nothing remotely resembling a green in Prestwich these days. _Dorca the Just_ he knew, and joined in, and also _Here’s a health unto His Majesty. Cetaganda’s Blood_ was one they perhaps shouldn’t sing when they had Galactic visitors, but it did a Barrayaran’s heart proud to hear it, all the same.

“Will you give us a song, my lord?” Eccles called out after the last one died away. Ivan shook his head, but the idea had taken root. Beer tankards crashed against the tables and booted feet stomped the ground until he reluctantly rose to his feet. He urged Aral to join him.

“I know you can sing, sir,” he said, “I’ve heard you.”

“Ivan, I don’t—” Aral began, but Cordelia pushed him up.

“Oh, go on, you old fraud. You know you want to. You haven’t had this much fun in years.”

“So what are we going to sing, Ivan?” Aral asked, resigned to his fate.

Ivan took a swig of courage from his tankard, only to have it promptly filled up again. “What about _Two Moon Night,_ sir? Everybody knows that.”

The musicians certainly knew it and gave him a note. Ivan held up his tankard and waited for everyone else to do the same. His baritone voice sounded great after enough beer had lubricated his throat and he sang the first verse on his own until he reached the chorus.

_“We joined Imperial Service on famous Barrayar_

_We served our Emp’ror faithfully for all our twenty years_

_From Hegen Hub to Escobar_

_From Sergyar to Komarr,”_

 

With a roar everyone joined in.

 

_“oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer_

_oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer.”_

 

Aral’s booming bass took up the second verse.

 

_“We trained on Kyril Island, manoeuvres in the snow,_

_We went to Black Escarpment where the strangle vines do grow_

_In mud and blood and pestilence_

_Our sergeant taught us sense_

_oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer_

_oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer.”_

 

Together they belted out the last one.

 

_“We jumped through seven wormholes and jumped through seven more_

_Where ere we go we’re service men in either peace or war._

_Good times, good friends and memories—_

_We’ll drink to comrades dear_

_oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer_

_oh, it’s our delight on a two moon night_

_To drink a round of beer.”_

 

“What a pair of showoffs.” Cordelia said as they drained their tankards and slumped back into their seats. “It’s high time to take you home.” 

Ivan glanced at his chrono. “Shit! Where did the time go? Our ImpSec boys are pulling a double shift today. General Allegre won’t thank us for the overtime.”

“With any luck Miles will have gone to bed,” Aral said, grinning as he drained his tankard again as it had miraculously filled when he wasn’t looking. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“If you believe that I’ve got a Star Bridge I can sell you, sir,” Ivan told him. “He’s much more likely to have steam coming out of his ears by now.”

Aral shrugged. “So who’s he going to take out all that pent-up forward momentum on?” Just for a minute he looked really evil. “It won’t be me.”

Ivan lurched just a little heading for the lightflyer. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t do it—”

Cordelia and Byerly finished his sentence for him. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

Aral slumped into his corner and started singing _Two Moon Night_ again.

 

 

Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan was not amused. He’d been pacing the hall for nearly an hour waiting for the delinquents to finally return to home base when the ImpSec guards sprang to attention and listened to their comm sets.

“Five minutes out, my lord. We’re doing the approach scan now.”

“Finally!”

He had to stop himself from folding his arms and tapping his foot. When his father the Count and Ivan finally staggered through the door they were holding each other up with Cordelia and By trailing behind. Miles opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Hello kiddo,” his mother said. “Fancy meeting you here. What’s the news from Vorbarr Sultana?”

“Miles!” His father gave him a cheery-beery wave. “How are you, son? I’ve been giving Ivan here Count lessons. He’s going to be very, very good.”

Ivan, carefully watching where he put his feet so that they stayed under him, walked over and gave him a hug.

“Hey, coz. We missed you! Why didn’t you come out t’Rotherhall? You and Byerly should talk. He thinks exzacly like you do. I’m juss gonna make sure Uncle Aral gets to bed. He’s my guest, don’t ya know? So are you, come to think of it. Welcome to Voralys District.”

Miles watched in utter disgust as, swaying very slightly, Ivan negotiated the treacherously tiled hall again and slid his arm round Aral’s waist. “It’s this way, sir. Up the stairs.”

Cordelia, laughing fit to burst, followed as uncle and nephew helped each other up the stairs and out of sight.

Miles and Byerly were left in the hall.

“I never had Ivan pinned as a strategist before,” Byerly said, “but that was masterly. He wasn’t that drunk in the lightflyer. The Count your father isn’t the only one to know how to retreat in good order.”

“This is _not_ a laughing matter,” Miles ground out through his clenched jaw. “This is _massive._ This is bigger than Vordrozda. It’s even bigger than Vordarian! It’s the worst political crisis of Gregor’s reign. And they’ve gone and got themselves drunk.”

By took hold of his arm and led him towards the ground floor parlour. “Let’s have a wine. I’ve been swimming in beer all day. Wait until I tell you what Ivan wants me to do next, and you can tell me exactly what I’ve been missing in the capital. The Emperor is due back in two days’ time, isn’t he? Do you think we can possibly crack this by then?”

Miles looked at Byerly with suspicion. “Crack what?”

“The case of the secret brother, of course. _I_ think it was Count Vorguriyev in the library with the nerve disruptor, myself, but you tell me your theory.”

Miles threw off By’s arm. “Everyone’s a comedian. It’s _not_ the time for jokes, Vorrutyer. This isn’t some silly table game we’re talking about.”

By’s voice hardened considerably. “In that case, Vorkosigan, you tell me how you’re planning on catching that twelve-toed Vorbarra bastard, and I’ll see if I can think of anything to help.”

 

Ivan didn’t feel very well on his run the next morning. He didn’t even bother to try any of the reps, instead he just lay in silent misery until it was time to start back. Marcus Fox and Pym took one arm each to haul him up. Pym handed Ivan a water bottle but he addressed his remarks to Fox.

“First lesson of the day, Fox. An armsman never criticises his liege lord. His job is to pick up the pieces and mop up the vomit. If he was asked for his opinion, of course, there may be the odd occasion when he’d tell his count to pull his head in and drink more water, but the Vor are the Vor and they won’t take a blind bit of notice, so usually it’s best to save your breath to cool your groats.”

Fox kept his face straight, but clearly it was an effort. “I suppose after a while, you’d build up a bit of a rapport, would you, like a working relationship with your Count?”

“You’d better. If a Count says, ‘off with his head,’ that’s exactly what would happen. The Emperor never interferes with a Count’s score, not like the civil courts where a person always has a last appeal.”

Ivan took a swig from the water bottle. “I was wounded in the line of duty, Pym. It was team building. This is _not_ my fault.”

“No, my lord, of course not. I saw Eccles forcing those tankards of beer down your throat. I was very impressed, though. I had no idea you could sing so well. You were very good.”

They left him to make his own way home, shadowed this time by a disapproving Fenerty, who had just that morning found out that Ivan had been out running twice before without telling him.

Ivan swore he could hear a chorus of _Two Moon Night_ as the pair jogged out of sight.

 

Fresh air, water and exercise helped metabolise the alcohol, but Ivan’s only comfort as he sat at the breakfast table was that Count Vorkosigan looked worse than he did. Byerly had not yet come down. Miles was sulking into his coffee cup.

Cordelia was very matter-of-fact about it. “Nobody has any sympathy for self-inflicted wounds, so we’re not going to hear any whining, are we? I want to hear what Miles can tell us, once he’s stopped being so self-righteous.”

Miles spluttered into his coffee and had to stop to wipe his face. His resentment boiled over. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me about Gregor’s half-brother! I absolutely had the right to know. Byerly Vorrutyer knows more than I did.”

He would have gone on complaining, so Ivan interrupted him. “Is that why you’re wearing your auditor’s chain this morning?” He asked. “To remind us you’re important?”

“Take a wormhole jump to hell.” Miles glowered at his cousin. “Gregor will be back in the capital tomorrow, and I’ll have to brief him.”

“Isn’t that General Allegre’s job? Let him do the dirty work.”

Miles sighed. “I can’t do that to Gregor, Ivan. He should hear about this from a family member, don’t you think? Have you considered what it’s going to mean to him? He’s been on his own for thirty-five years, and now he finds out he actually had a brother for the last thirty of them? Not to mention that the brother is the violent sadist he’s terrified of becoming himself. If we ever find him it will be like looking in Baba Yaga’s mirror for poor Gregor.”

“The first thing to do _is_ find him,” Cordelia reminded them. “What progress has Guy made?”

“Vorbataille knows nothing. His son is off-world somewhere around Jackson’s Whole, maybe on one of the stations and a squad has been sent to bring him in. None of the remaining Clarence family were in on the Count’s schemes, or that particular plot, anyway, and Vorguriyev is hiding behind his District walls. We think he’s realised the game is up, but we need Gregor’s direct authorisation to send an Imperial detachment into a District without the sitting Count’s permission. We’re presuming Vorresiak is with him, but that’s an assumption. Vorguriyev may even have disposed of him already, trying to cover his tracks. That would save us all a lot of heartache, wouldn’t it?”

“Guy’s got people in there, of course?” Aral asked.

“Yes, sir, but the District Residence in Vorguriyev Moletai is like ImpSec HQ. I wouldn’t be surprised if mad old Dono Vorrutyer himself designed it. So far it’s been impenetrable and the armsmen haven’t let slip a word. They’re very loyal, to a man.”

Aral pondered for a moment. “Well, that’s how you’d want them to be, I suppose. It’s a stalemate, then. What made you feel you needed to come to New Sheffield, Miles? There’s not really anything we can do to help, is there, unless you want me to talk to Gregor?”

Miles coloured slightly. “There’s no need for that sir, I’ll talk to Gregor.”

Ivan knew exactly why Miles had come. “You wanted to tell us all off, didn’t you, like we were naughty schoolboys not letting you play our game.”

Miles straightened up in his seat. He looked the picture of outraged dignity. “That wouldn’t be the first time you’d done that, would it, Ivan? Yes, I was angry. I could have _helped_ if I’d known earlier. We could have stopped Vorguriyev leaving Vorbarr Sultana, for one.”

Ivan just sighed. “We’ve got no proof, and you can’t lay hands on a Count. Nothing else would have stopped him holing up back in Moletai. You’re just going to have to be like the rest of us and sit it out and wait. Unless you’d like to come with us today to Prestwich. I’m sure an Imperial Auditor would be a bigger attraction than any of _us_. More fun than the monkeys in the zoo, even.”

Cordelia diffused what was looking like becoming a schoolroom spat. “Settle down, the both of you. Miles, if you’d like to come to Prestwich you’re very welcome, or you can stay here to liaise with Guy. It’s up to you. Byerly is going snooping here in New Sheffield this morning. Perhaps that would suit you better. He could even go over your reports. He’s got a very sharp brain and sees the world differently. There might just be something you missed.”

Ivan had to swallow a laugh. Miles’ affront at his mother suggesting he might have missed something was worth paying money to see.

“I’ve got reports coming out of my ears. I’ll stay here and work on them, if that’s acceptable to you, Count?” He bowed in a very frosty manner towards Ivan.

“Certainly. Talk to Karasavas if you haven’t already. He’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need.”

“Thank you for your hospitality. I trust you’ll be back for dinner?”

“I think we plan to be. We don’t have anything scheduled past 1500 hours.”

Miles stood up from the table and bowed to his parents. “Please excuse me. I’ll see you later, sir, ma’am.”

Ivan watched him go. “It would have been like having the grim reaper along with us if he’d decided to come, wouldn’t it? I’m going to call Marie and send a message to Raine. I hope Prestwich doesn’t spoil the show after Rotherhall, but believe me, it’s nasty. See you in the hall at 1000 hours, aunt, uncle.”

 

 


	9. Prestwich

 

 

Ivan crashed face down on the cobbles. His breath whooshed out as a heavy weight crushed his back and ribs. The sound of a projectile hitting flesh had stunned him and he couldn’t work out what it was. It wasn’t a grenade or an energy weapon like a nerve disruptor. It hadn’t sounded like any needler he’d ever heard, either. He was too busy trying to drag in some air to process what had happened. He wasn’t hurt, he didn’t think. There’d been a shout and then Fenerty had yelled a warning a second later, then the loud crack and thump and now there were booted feet all around him. Off to his right someone screamed and stunner bolts buzzed like bees; very angry bees, at that.

He was picked up bodily as an air car landed within a metre of him and the blast from the fans blew dust and grit into his eyes. He landed on the back row of seats and another body held him down as the air car shot up in an emergency take off. Service lightflyers closed round them in tight formation as he gradually got his senses and his vision back. He had an oxygen mask on his face. Eventually, when he could breathe again he was allowed to sit up as a med tech checked him for wounds and gave him some saline solution to wash out his eyes. As soon as he could see properly Ivan pushed him and the mask off.

“The Count? My aunt Cordelia? Are they safe?”

“Perfectly safe and evacuated, my lord Count. It looks like you were the target.”

“Thank god they missed, then.” Ivan tried to wipe the grit off his face, straighten his clothes and tidy his hair, all at the same time. Something wasn’t right. He remembered the sound, and the weight across his back.

“Where’s Fenerty?” The Impsec Captain wasn’t in the air car with them. He should have been right there. “Where is he? What’s happened?”

The young Ensign who had answered his first query blinked at him, still shocked himself. “Captain Fenerty was wounded, Count. We don’t know how badly at this stage.”

“Take me to the hospital. I have to see him.”

“He’s receiving the best care and Major Karasavas has given the pilot specific instructions, my lord Count. We are travelling directly back to New Sheffield.”

They hadn’t been five minutes in Prestwich. How the hell had an assassin got through the security screening?

“You’re sure the Count and Countess are unharmed?”

The ensign nodded. “Yes, Count. Lord Auditor Vorkosigan is meeting them at the landing port on the District office next to the Residence.”

“Stop calling me _Count_ ,” Ivan growled. “ _Sir_ is quite sufficient. I’m not hurt. I want to see Fenerty.”

“I don’t have that authority. I’m sorry C—sir.”

This was the second time Ivan hadn’t been able to respond to an incident, and he did _not_ like it. He sat, worried and shocked, in a fuming temper in the middle seat of the air car, surrounded by a guard on one side and the medtech on the other side and three more guards including the ensign across the seats in front of him. They circled New Sheffield twice while the Viceregal air car cleared the landing port, and then set down with a plummeting swoop exactly on the marked circle. Ivan was once again hustled into the entry way and down in the lift tube to the ground floor. There was a guard at every level and three at the front door. They didn’t go out through the main entrance, though, instead they filed through a small door that led down a passage directly to the armsmen’s station in the Residence. Ivan hadn’t known it was there.

Miles was waiting for him in the hall. Ivan took one look at his face and his stomach plummeted. “Don’t you dare tell me he’s dead!”

Miles reached out to take Ivan’s arm. “I’m really sorry, Ivan. It must have been instantaneous. He would never have known a thing.”

“No! He can’t be dead.” _Not because of me_. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the awfulness of this.“What about a cryochamber? Surely we have one, for the viceroy, if for no other reason.”

“It was a head wound, Ivan. It wasn’t possible to even try.”

Ivan felt blood draining away from his brain. His vision faded out and his knees shook as he tried to lookat Miles. He was _not_ going to pass out, not now. He took a huge breath as he tried to fight his appalled shock. His voice was very quiet when he spoke.

“I’m not worth someone dying for me.” It was so much worse that he hadn’t really liked the man. What difference should that make? Fenerty was dead, and it was his fault. Walton had died because of him, too, but that had been different. Vorclarence’s armsman had wanted to die.

“Mother is coming back down to see you. She wanted to see father settled first. He’s very shaken up, too.”

“They told me Uncle Aral was fine! What’s happened to him?” Ivan started to make for the stairs but Miles tried to hold him back.

“No, he _is_ fine. He wasn’t hurt. It was the ImpSec squad hustling him that winded him a bit. He’s just shocked. Mother’s still worried about his heart, of course. It hasn’t been that long since the operation, you know. His physician’s on his way from the barracks to see him. I think we should get him to take a look at you, too. You don’t look too good.”

“Ivan?” Cordelia called over the bannister. “Is that you? Come on up. Aral wants to see for himself that you’re OK.”

Ivan started up the stairs three at a time with Miles hurrying behind him. Cordelia took one look at him and opened up her arms. “Oh, Ivan, come here. You’re not OK, are you? It’s all right kiddo, he’s fine.”

Ivan topped Cordelia by a good few inches. He laid his head on her shoulder and sank into the hug. It was all he could do to choke out, “Fenerty’s _dead_ , Aunt Cordelia. He’s dead because of _me_.”

She just hugged him all the tighter until he got his breathing under control again. “Come and talk to Aral. Believe me, Ivan, he knows exactly how you feel. We’ve done this too many times. Too, too many times.”

Aral’s doctor was admitted to the house just then, and followed them all into the bedroom where Aral lay on top of the bed. The Viceroy jumped up when he saw Ivan and helped Cordelia take him over to a chair.

“Thank god! I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain anything to your mother. She’d never forgive me. Just breathe, son. We’ll get through this.”

Ivan looked at his hands. He was still shaking. Miles had been in this position, no doubt, and Cordelia, Aral, even Kou and Drou. They’d all had someone die because of their actions. How could they just…go on?

The doctor checked Aral’s heart and breathing and offered him some synergine. Aral waved it away. “Give Count Voralys a half dose. He’s in shock. He’s not used to this sort of thing.”

“No one gets used to this sort of thing,” Cordelia snapped at her husband. She hadn’t let go of Ivan the whole time. She still had an arm around his shoulders even as the doctor scanned his pulse and respiration. Ivan hardly noticed the shot hissing into his arm. His shaking hands steadied, though, and his breathing settled.

Cordelia hugged him again. “Ivan, it’s _not_ your fault. Fenerty was proud to do his job. It’s the fault of the psychopaths out there who think they can behave like this. Imperial Service is _dangerous_. He knew that, and was prepared to take the risks. Just like you and Major Vorinnis took the risk with Gregor.”

How could she compare the two of them like that? Gregor was _important_.

“Gregor’s the _Emperor_! Everyone would give their life for the Emperor. I don’t want anyone dying for me! I’ve never done _anything_ worthwhile. All I’ve ever done is be born Dorca Vorbarra’s great great grandson. I never wanted any of this.”

Aral stood in front of him. “We have to make the best of the hands we’re dealt with, Ivan, and do the duty we’ve sworn to do. Right now you need to get out there and let people know you’re alive and well. Remember all your friends in Rotherhall. They’ll be devastated right now.”

“Karasavas was worried about Prestwich. He told us so, when we first got here. I don’t know, after Rotherhall I thought—where is Karasavas, anyway? He wasn’t hurt as well, was he?” Ivan jumped up, his anxiety levels returning in full force.

“No, he’s fine.” Aral pressed him back down again. “They have a suspect in detention and I presume he’s carrying out an interrogation.”

There was an interruption with a knock at the door. Cordelia went to check and admitted Pym and Fox, each carrying a tray, one hot coffee and the other tea.

“Bless you, Pym, and Fox, too. That’s just what we need. A nice hot cup of tea is the cure for anything wrong with you in these parts, so Mrs Eccles told me yesterday.” Cordelia made a place for the trays on a low table over by the window. Pym poured and Fox distributed the cups and handed round a plate of pastries.

Ivan hadn’t realised he was thirsty. He downed two cups of tea in short order. Fox stood close to his shoulder, he noticed, ready to give him anything he wanted. “I thought you’d be running back to Rotherhall by now, Fox,” he said. “Not a good first day on the job for you, is it?”

“It would have been a much worse one if she’d succeeded, my lord.”

What was that he’d just said? “Wait, what? Did you say _she_? You saw what happened?” Everyone turned to look at Fox, who nodded.

“I’ll never forget it, my lord. It was definitely a woman. Very smart, dark hair, dark eyes, about thirty standard, maybe? Much shorter than the Countess and very slim. She was with the press contingent. I was suspicious about the way she pushed to the front, but the press are like that, sometimes, and she was small, after all. And then she pulled the weapon. I couldn’t get to you in time and I didn’t have line of sight with my stunner. I shouted. Fenerty heard me and he just reacted. ImpSec got to her before I did and you know the rest.”

Miles had been silent all the while, but he spoke up, now. His face had paled. “Did she look like a local, Fox, or more like someone from Vorbarr Sultana?”

Fox thought for a moment. “I’d say she came from the capital. She wasn’t just smart, her clothes were edgy, brand new, almost like a fashion magazine. Not too many people round here look like that, these days.”

Miles paced up and down. “Wait one.” He darted out of the room and came back with a portable data recorder and started tapping in a search. Eventually a woman’s face popped up on the screen.

“Is that her?” He asked, showing Fox the picture.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, my lord, that’s her for sure. You know her?”

“Unfortunately I do, and so does Ivan.”

“What? Show me.” Ivan held out his hand for the data recorder. Miles turned it over to him. Ivan took one look and dropped it.

“The evil _bitch!”_ He picked up the data recorder and looked at it again, not believing what he’d seen the first time. He felt like he wanted to vomit. _Lina Petrova,_  gossip reporter for _Good Morning VS._ Miles looked sick as well.

He told Ivan what he knew. “I’d heard a report in Guy’s morning security bulletin. It must have been two days ago, I think. Apparently she’d threatened all sorts of wild things but nobody took her too seriously. Gregor barred the whole station from his wedding, remember, and then…I was angry, with what she’d try to do to Ekaterin. I talked to her boss and got her fired. This isn’t your fault, Ivan. It’s mine.”

Cordelia jumped up in disgust. “It’s not the fault of either of you. It’s the fault of this dreadful planet where everybody has grown up believing violence solves problems. Barrayar’s eaten another one of her sons, and one of her daughters as well, this time. You should all come to Sergyar and we can start again and get it right this time.”

Pym’s wristcom pinged. He listened for a moment or two and then spoke to Aral before he crossed over to the door. “Major Karasavas is on his way in. I’ll go and bring him up, my lord Count. Fox, you stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Ivan couldn’t bear to look at the woman’s face. He flicked the off switch and tossed the recorder onto the table next to the tea trays. They waited in silence for Pym to bring Karasavas up to the room. In a few moments Fox checked the door and let them in. The ImpSec major looked grimmer than Ivan had ever seen him. He stood up to give the man a seat.

“Come and sit down, Mikhail. I’m so sorry about Fenerty. I’m absolutely gutted.”

“Thank you, my lord Count, but I’d prefer to stand.” Karasavas carried some data discs and an evidence bag. His back was as stiff and straight as a Necklin rod.

Aral obviously understood exactly how he felt. Keep it formal. That way everyone could get through this. “Report, major. What have you found out?”

“We have the assailant in custody, Admiral. She’s a thirty-two year old female from Vorbarr Sultana by the name of Galina Petrova.”

So it really was the same woman. Ivan sighed. What would drive someone to do a thing like that?

Karasavas continued. “She recently lost her job as a society reporter.” He glanced at Ivan. “Apparently she has been interested in Count Voralys in a more than professional manner. There are several photos of him in her office cubicle and I suspect we’ll find there are more at her apartment. There’s a search squad on the way now. I would call it an unhealthy obsession and it’s been going on for quite some time. She’d been hoping to attract his notice and overstepped the mark to the point where her employer terminated her contract. From what I can gather this tipped her over the edge and she decided if she couldn’t have him nobody was going to have him. She still had her press credentials, somehow, perhaps a duplicate, and managed to walk in with some colleagues.” He stopped to wipe his forehead. Ivan listened to the story in growing horror.

“She’s been stalking me?”

Karasavas nodded and went on. “It’s really quite disturbing. She deliberately aimed for your head, Count. In her words she wanted _to spoil his pretty face.”_

Aral was the one to focus. “How the devil did she get through the security screen? And if she can do it, who else can do it?”

“She didn’t use an energy weapon, my lord. The sensors didn’t react. It’s like something out of a museum. It has a chemical charge and a lead projectile.” Karasavas showed them the evidence bag. The weapon was short, squat and black.

“A _handgun_?” Aral shook his head in disbelief. Ivan took the bag and looked more closely. That explained the peculiar sound he’d heard.

“Yes, sir, a handgun. A Shipunov 7 mm. They’re used for target shooting. There are archaic weapon enthusiasts and clubs and it’s still a popular sport in a few Districts, like Vormercier, Vorkalloner and Vorguriyev Districts to name just three.”

That name again. Ivan felt Miles stiffen beside him. Perhaps this supposedly totally unrelated attack wasn’t so unrelated after all. He had to ask. “How would she get her hands on something like that?”

Karasavas shrugged. “She told me she reported on the championships in Vormercier Villeangers. Theo Vormercier gave it to her. I didn’t ask what he received in exchange.”

Miles exhaled and Ivan relaxed slightly. He was getting too paranoid. There wasn’t a conspiracy around _every_ bloodweed bush. There were plenty of independent crazies to suit everybody, as Fenerty had found out. He didn’t even know if the man had been married. He’d have to go and see her, if there was a widow waiting for her husband to come home somewhere. ImpSec’s professional paranoia didn’t seem quite so paranoid after all, given the circumstances. They’d had this experience so often. He mustn’t forget that Karasavas had lost one of his own, too. Guy Allegre would feel it as well. He pulled himself together.

“Thank you, Mikhail. This has been very difficult for you. I have to ask you for one more thing.”

Karasavas looked wary. “Yes, Count. What do you need?”

“I need another squad. I’m going back to Prestwich and I’d very much like you to come with me.”

Cordelia spoke up. “I’ll come with you, too, Ivan. Aral can stay here with Miles and do their fine tooth comb thing with the reports.”

“I’m happy to join you, my lord,” Fox looked over to Pym. “if that’s acceptable.”

Pym received a nod from Aral. “I’ll just go and arrange for the lightflyer. It’s 1200 hours now. In thirty minutes time?”

Ivan looked down at his filthy house uniform. “Yes, that will give me time to change. How about it, Mikhail. Will you come?”

The major nodded. He’d relaxed slightly. “Yes, my lord. I’d be honoured to accompany you. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll go and make some calls. Before I go,” he handed Ivan a data disc. “This is a log of seven hundred and forty-eight calls received at the District office before I left at 1130 hours. Every one of them is inquiring about your welfare. No doubt there’s just as many again by now. Our operators have been told to report that you are in good health and to thank the caller for their concern, and that you will be making a statement in due course.”

“Yes, I’ll do that from Prestwich. They didn’t deserve this.”

He’d last worn his best house uniform at the wedding. He’d last taken it off at Raine’s apartment, what seemed like ten years ago now and was really only last week. Ivan ran his hand across the silver embroidery on the sleeve as his valet turned to find his sword belt. Those wonderful ladies from Prestwich had put their hearts into making this. It was the same with the seal dagger. He took a quick look at the blade before seating it firmly in its sheath against his right hip.

Cordelia waited for him in the hall and sent him a mock salute as he came down the stairs. “Attaboy. Send a clear _up yours_ to Lina Petrova and anyone like her. They’re going to get a shock in Prestwich.”

Three hours later than he first intended and with the crowd mostly dispersed, the air car and an escort descended side by side in the main square outside the Town Hall as the lightflyers circled overhead. Curious people looked out from the cafes and businesses surrounding the square. Ivan could almost hear the gasp as he stepped out and turned round to hand Cordelia down. There wasn’t any cheering to start with, but as they walked over to the Town Hall someone started clapping, and the applause rippled round the square as more and more people poured out of the nearby buildings. The big screen flickered into life as the tech powered up the broadcast system and Ivan stood by the microphone. The ImpSec cordon held the people back further than he liked, but he realised just how jumpy Major Karasavas must be feeling. The broadcast signal winked green and the tech gave him the thumbs up.

“I apologise for the delay in speaking to you. The loyal subjects of the Emperor living in Prestwich deserve no less of my attention than those in New Sheffield, Rotherhall and all the surrounding villages and hamlets of Voralys District. An attempt was made this morning to silence me, an attempt that cost the life of my bodyguard. I will be petitioning the Emperor for him to receive the highest award available to a serving officer and will inform you of his name and rank once the members of his family have been told the devastating news."

He had to pause. The crowd waited in complete silence for him to continue. "My profound sympathies and thanks go to his family and his fellow officers and men of the Imperial Security service. We can only live in peace and security if every one of you takes it upon himself or herself to safeguard that security and report suspicious behaviour to the proper authorities. The assassin was not a resident of Voralys District and no blame for this is cast on anyone here. As we strive together to make Prestwich a place fit for your children to live and grow, let us hope that this is the last time such terror rears its ugly head. My thanks to you all for your good wishes. Countess Vorkosigan would like to speak to you for a few moments and then we’ll continue our interrupted tour.”

Cordelia smiled and kissed him before she stood behind the microphone. “I am married to one of the bravest men Barrayar has ever seen. His efforts on behalf of the Imperium will speak through history. I tell you now that today I have seen another very brave man, and you can be proudto call him your own. Ivan Xav Vorpatril, Count Voralys, has the blood of Emperor Dorca in his veins, but the courage and leadership shown today is very much his own. My friends, I hope you always give him the loyalty he deserves. Thank you all.”

Ivan smiled and waved to the crowds, looking all the while at the spot where Fenerty had died.

 

 


	10. Time to get organised

 

 

There were too many tears. Mr Wilkins had tears of relief and joy streaming down his face as he leapt up from his seat, almost knocking it over in his haste to clasp Ivan’s hands in the little office area attached to the sword factory. He managed to restrain himself from hugging his Count, but it was obvious he wanted to do just that. Everyone on the factory floor came up to shake his hand and look at the seal dagger. The ladies in the bespoke embroidery workshop, so fearful to see him the first time he had visited them, had no such male inhibitions and they threw their embroidery away and just about mobbed him when he walked into their workroom. They all wanted to see for themselves that he was unhurt. Molly and Rachel sobbed openly and they all had their handkerchiefs out. Cordelia stood back and watched the melee until at last Ivan had hugged each one of them and he could make himself heard.

“Ladies, please! I’d like you to meet Countess Vorkosigan.”

They all fell back and bobbed what passed for curtsies to Cordelia. She smiled and waved hello. “I think they’re very glad to see you didn’t get any holes in their beautiful work, Count,” she said.

Ivan had to swallow hard. The noise and the ladies pressing close had disoriented him. It was too much like the chaos in the square. It was hard to concentrate on what was being said but he forced himself to smile and follow her lead.

“They’d never have forgiven me if I’d done that, Vicereine. That one was the tunic I wore for my investiture. I’m going to need some more, and some armsmen’s uniforms very soon. I hope there’s room in the order book.”

Molly had finished wiping her eyes. “We’ve already had eight firm orders and more enquiries coming all the time. Everyone is working. It’s so _wonderful_. But we’ll drop everything for you, Count. You just let us know.”

Cordelia had wandered off to look at some work. Ivan saw her talking quietly, moving around the room as if nothing on three worlds was wrong. It was like looking down the wrong end of a telescope. He blinked to try and re-focus, but everything had started running in slow motion, especially his brain. There was a gentle touch at his elbow that startled him. Had his wits been wandering? It was Rachel, holding a cup of tea for him.

“You come and sit down here, my lord, on one of these stools by the worktable. There might not have been any holes in your house uniform, but that doesn’t mean there’s not one in your heart, now, does it? A bit of peace and quiet is what you need. Here’s a nice hot cup of tea and her ladyship’s armsman to keep you company, and I’ll keep the girls away.”

As Pym came to stand beside Ivan, Fox talked to Rachel. “You might like to measure me up now. I’ll be needing one of those armsmen’s uniforms sooner rather than later.”

Ivan heard him. It didn’t seem to make any sense, so he’d worry about it later. Instead, he clutched at the teacup as if it was a lifesaver and stared down into the brown liquid. Pym laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly so only he could hear. “You hold up, my lord, and we’ll have you out of here in five minutes. I’ve just alerted the air car. I’m right behind you. You can lean back on me if you need to.”

Ivan swallowed some of the tea. _Tea_. The cure-all for everything, or was it the love and the sympathy that went with it? He didn’t rightly know, but it worked. The fog lifted, although it swirled around the edges. He stood up again. “I’m fine, Pym, but let’s get to that car, shall we? I think I’m only fine for about four more minutes.”

With Pym on one side and Fox holding his elbow on the other Ivan made it to the air car. Karasavas started to call for the medtech but Ivan waved him off.

“I just need to go home, Mikhail. It’s been a long day.”

He stood back for Cordelia to enter first, gave the ladies a final wave and sank into his seat. He undid his collar and lay back with his eyes closed. “Was I babbling?” he asked.

Cordelia reached over to take hold of his hand. “No, Ivan, but you turned from white to grey to green. Delayed reaction, probably, and that half-dose of synergine you had would wear off pretty quickly. We’ll get you back to New Sheffield and you can go to bed. There’s no need to worry about anything else today. Aral and Miles will take care of it.”

“Thanks, Aunt Cordelia. They can talk to my mother, too. I’ve just remembered I haven’t called her.”

 

He woke up the next morning with no clear recollection of getting back to New Sheffield, or even going to bed. There was daylight in the room and Byerly Vorrutyer sat half-sprawled in an armchair drawn up by the bed. A similar chair on the other side was presently empty.

“Good morning, Ivan.” By looked like he hadn’t been to bed.

“Have you been there all night?” Ivan started to sit up and thought better of it. He rolled painfully to one side and looked at his chrono. 0900 hours. He’d missed his morning run.

By stretched and sat straighter in the chair. “Not quite, but the Countess was going to, and we couldn’t have that, could we? I relieved her at 2600 hours. Pym and Fox took shifts as well. Fox went to get coffee when we saw you stirring. No doubt he’ll be back directly.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a—oh, god. I remember. I didn’t dream it, did I? Fenerty is dead and that vile woman killed him.” Ivan lay back and closed his eyes. His muscles ached, his ribs ached and his head ached, but he was alive. “Why were you all sitting with me? I wasn’t at death’s door or anything.”

By shrugged. “Countess Cordelia was worried you’d wake up with screaming nightmares and didn’t want you to be on your own. I couldn’t in all charity let _her_ sit up all night, now, could I? Especially when I wasn’t round for the action, yesterday. I have to do my bit. Miles and his father went back to Vorbarr Sultana last night. They’re going to talk to Gregor together today, at lunch time. Rather them than me. Here comes Fox with your coffee and I will go and tell the Countess you’re awake. She’ll be heading back to town this morningas well but wanted to see you before she left. I think she’s lending you Pym again, for a short while. If you’re well enough, I should go with her,” he felt his chin, “but not in this state. I’m not fit to be seen. I’ll leave you with Fox.”

Fox handed him a huge mug of steaming hot coffee, two painkillers and a plate of toasted, spiced bread. “Good morning, my lord. You didn’t have dinner last night so you must be hungry.”

The last thing Ivan wanted to do was eat, but he took some of the spiced bread and sipped at his coffee after downing the painkillers. They were treating him like an invalid, tip-toeing around like he was sick or something. Sick at heart, maybe, but the cure for that was action. He downed his coffee and pushed the covers back.

“There must be a hundred things waiting for me. I’ll want Karasavas’ report first up. Will you get on to him while I’m in the bathroom and tell him I’ll see him at 1000 hours? At the District office would be best. You can send my valet in, too.”

Ivan stuck his head back out of the bathroom. “Oh, and Fox, thank you very much for everything you did, yesterday. Tell Pym I’ll see him personally, but thank him, too.”

Fox was at the bedroom door before Ivan ducked back out of the bathroom again. “Don’t go just yet. Did I hear you right, yesterday? Have you made your mind up?”

Fox smiled. “You did, my lord Count. Somebody has to look after you, and I’m a Voralys man, after all. Pym’s actually very fond of you, you know. I can see why.”

Ivan crossed the room to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Fox. I’ll try and see you won’t regret it. Perhaps you and Pym can help me choose a few more before he goes back to the Vorkosigans. They have to be people you can work with, after all.”

Fox bowed. “Thank you. I’d like that. I’ll go and talk to Major Karasavas.”

“You do that, and don’t forget to send my valet in. I’ll see you downstairs in twenty minutes or so.”

Ivan’s House uniforms had been taking a battering so he chose a plain, dark blue tunic and trousers. There weren’t any more visits scheduled for a while and he always did his best work behind a desk, anyway. He didn’t need fancy embroidery for that. The painkillers were doing their job and his hot shower eased his sore muscles, too. From the outside it was hard to tell he’d nearly been killed the day before. As he brushed his teeth he looked in the mirror and wondered how Aral, and Miles too, could have sent men to their deaths without it affecting them. Perhaps it _had_ affected them, though, it must have, and he just hadn’t realised before this. They’d faced dangers like yesterday time after time. Was it easier when the enemy was obvious and there were comrades-in-arms by your side? He hadn’t been afraid. It wasn’t that. It was the shock of how quickly it could happen, how fragile life really was, and, to be honest, the worse shock that someone really hated him enough to try and kill him; just him, personally, not as an enemy combatant. He’d always been happy-go-lucky, friends with everyone until they proved otherwise and he’d never deliberately made an enemy. All of that was going to change, now. He just had to be more prepared for it.

Cordelia saw him as he left his room and came over to give him a quick hug. She stood him at arms length and subjected him to one of her frank scrutinies. “How are you today, Ivan, really? You don’t have to give me any bullshit platitudes.”

He smiled. How could anyone not smile at that? “A bit heartsick, but much better, thank you, Aunt. I really appreciated the support yesterday. I’m still getting my head round everything this new job of mine involves.”

“I’m still trying to get my head around _Barrayar_ ,” Cordelia said, “and I haven’t been successful yet. The day we had at Rotherhall is what it _should_ be like, and yesterday is what it comes across like to anyone who isn’t Barrayaran.”

“I hope Raine doesn’t get to hear about it.”

Cordelia shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake, Ivan. She’ll find out about it for sure, and it needs to be from you. She’ll never trust you, otherwise.”

She was right, of course. He’d better get that job over with, and call his mother, and Marie. He’d have to speak to Gregor soon, and Fenerty’s family. He’d better make a list.

By came out of his room to join them, back to his suave best.

Cordelia slid her hand under his arm. “And here’s another one who’s been hiding his light under a bushel for years. Thanks for what you did last night, By. I’m old enough to really appreciate my sleep. Are you escorting me back to Vorbarr Sultana today?”

By took her free hand and kissed her fingers. “That’s such a gracious way of offering me a lift. I’d be delighted to escort you, Countess. I think Ivan here is back to standing on his own two very capable feet.”

“Are you ready? Pym has just let me know the transport has arrived, so I think we’ll be on our way. I’d like to see Laisa as soon as possible and if we go now we might just reach the Residence before them. I was only waiting to say goodbye to Ivan.”

“Certainly. I’ll go grab my luggage and see you downstairs.”

Ivan caught sight of Fox leaving By’s room. “I think the luggage is taken care of, By. All you need is your hat and your coat.”

By shook his hand. “Thanks for the hospitality. I don’t think I’ve said it yet, but I’m glad that bitch missed, and I’m truly sorry about Fenerty. I’ll have some preliminary designs ready for you in a few days, Ivan. I’ve had some ideas. I’ll let you know.”

Cordelia walked down the stairs with him and out into the fresh air. “Pym is staying for a few more days. Miles wants him back but he can do perfectly well with Jankowski and Roic and all manner of ImpSec minions. You’ve just lost your man and it’s going to hurt. I’ll tell Gregor about him. He’ll want to know.”

“I’ll tell him myself, as well, Aunt. Could you please also tell Guy Allegre how sorry and how grateful I am? I’d appreciate the details of the next of kin.”

“I will. Goodbye, Count Voralys. I’ll pass on my good opinions of you to your mother when I see her.”

He saw them off, the lightflyer joining the circling escorts above, and watched as the formation disappeared beyond the horizon. There was no more hiding behind the Count and Countess, asking for advice or passing the buck. It stopped with him. It was still only 0940 hours. He’d have time for a quick call to his mother and Marie before his appointment with Karasavas.

Pym and Fox flanked him at either shoulder as he walked down the square to the main door of the District office. He didn’t want that little passageway he’d used yesterday to get too well known. He was surprised to see flowers on the steps. Lots of flowers on the steps. Oodles of flowers on the steps, in fact. He stopped to read a few of the messages attached. Some of them were in very childish hands. _We love our new Count…You have our support, Count…From your loyal supporter in New Sheffield._ One had a drawing, looking very much like something Marie would do. A stick figure rested in a hospital bed with a doctor and nurse standing by. _Get well soon_.

“It’s the same in Prestwich, sir,” Pym told him. “People are very upset. I think you’ve won them over already.”

As they were standing there a mother with an older boy and a small girl carrying more flowers came around the corner. She looked very taken aback at first but then smiled nervously to see him there. She bobbed a curtsey, but stood well back. Looking at the looming armsman, she motioned to the little girl.

“My Jenny would like to leave some flowers. We were watching the vid from Prestwich and we were all so upset.”

Pym nodded. “You can come closer. Your name, ma’am?”

“Me? Oh, I’m Violette Drury. This is my boy Peter, and this here is Jenny.”

Pym bowed slightly as he formally introduced them. “My lord Count, Madame Violette Drury, Master Peter Drury and Mademoiselle Jenny Drury.”

Ivan shook hands with the mother and her son, then squatted down to the little girl. “Are those for me?”

She blushed and nodded, thrusting them out into his hands. “Thank you very much. Are you on holiday?”

She was frozen with shyness, so her brother answered.

“School finished just before Midsummer, er—”

“Just say sir,” Pym whispered.

“Sir,” the boy said, “Mum was going to take us to the park, but we came here first, sir.”

Ivan fished in his pocket and found his wallet. “I like the park, and I know a little girl just like you who likes pink ice cream. I can’t go today, so you have one for me, all of you. If there’s enough money left you can buy some lunch, too.” He handed over a fifty mark note. “I’m very glad to have met you, all of you.”

“Sir, my lord Count! We can’t take that!” Violette Drury looked horrified, but Ivan had seen that pinched look around Jenny’s eyes. She’d been eating recently, at least, but he wondered when she’d last had a treat.

“I gave it to Jenny, and she’s already got it, so I think you can. Have a lovely day at the park.” He looked at his chrono. 0955 hours. His calls would have to wait. “Please excuse me. I have an appointment.”

Karasavas looked like he hadn’t slept, although his uniform was neat and precise and his air of brisk efficiency hadn’t diminished. He had a tidy office on the second level, away from the public areas.It was only temporary while he wore his double hat of holding the District together. He sprang to his feet as Ivan entered and pulled over a chair for him. “I’m glad to see you looking better this morning, Count.”

“I got some sleep, Mikhail. I don’t think I can say the same for you.”

Karasavas shrugged. “I need to have my report finalised for General Allegre. Obviously we should have done better. No one was aware that Petrova had left Vorbarr Sultana, for example. And nobody had any idea of what they were going to find at her apartment. I should warn you, sir, it’s…unsettling.”

He flicked on a holovid taken by one of the search squad. There were prints of Ivan plastered everywhere. He’d never seen any of them before. Leaving his apartment, walking into Ops HQ, every restaurant he’d been to in the last year it looked like, out with girlfriends, talking to his male friends in bars. There was even one of him talking to By Vorrutyer and that blockhead Alexei Vormoncrief.

Pym spoke up. “It makes you want to take a bath, doesn’t it?”

Ivan just shuddered. He hadn’t known what is was like when people talked about having their skin crawl. He knew exactly, now. “Well, she’s off the streets. How the hell didn’t I pick up on it, or my protection squad, come to that? It should never have got this far.”

“I can only presume it’s a case of hiding in plain sight. If she’d been stopped she’d have her press credentials and a very reasonable excuse. There was no threat of violence until she missed out on the biggest story of the century gossip-wise. She did ask to see you, my lord.”

“I hope you told her to take a wormhole jump to hell.”

“Oh, yes. There won’t be any need for you to see her in court, either. She won’t be tried in the District. This is an Imperial matter. She’ll be held at ImpSec HQ and executed after due process, as she has confessed to premeditated treason.”

“Were there any other injuries I should know about?”

“Nothing serious, sir. Several bystanders were stunned, but they’ve all received proper treatment and most of them are dining out on their fame, I would suspect. There’s been one or two sensational stories on the newsvids but her identity has been suppressed by General Allegre’s order.”

“Was Fenerty married?”

“Divorced, my lord. His ex-wife has been informed. There were no children involved.” His eyes turned bleak for a moment, possibly thinking of his own little family, “His father was killed in the Pretender’s war and his mother died two years ago. The next of kin is a sister living on Sergyar.”

No visits, then. He’d ask Cordelia to follow up with the sister when she could. “I won’t be leaving the building here today, Mikhail, so you wrap this up and take twenty-six hours off. I don’t want to see you before lunch tomorrow. I hope I make myself clear? And no taking anything home with you, either.”

“Yes, my lord Count. Loud and clear.”

He left Karasavas to finalise his paperwork and moved across the corridor to his own office. It was reached through an outer secretary’s office and turned out to be a large, handsome room overlooking the square, with a huge desk at one end and an arrangement of couches forming a conversation area at the other. The windows were force-shielded and Pym also showed him a shielded panic room with an emergency exit concealed in one corner near the desk. In the other corner was a small washroom.

“Let’s hope we won’t be needing that panic room. I’ll remember it for the next time the Lord Auditor comes visiting, though. What I do need is to start making calls, so you and Fox take a break. I’ll have lunch here at 1300 hours and we’ll start interviews this afternoon. How does that sound? Will the two of you have a working lunch with me? I need to find out about liege oaths.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll be right outside until 1115 hours and then I’ll hand over to Fox until lunch time.”

Ivan shook his head in exasperation. “Whatever you feel comfortable with, Pym. There’s no reason why you can’t talk to Ma Pym and Aurie and Arthur while you’re taking your break right outside, is there?”

“No, sir. I might just do that. Just call if you need anything.”

At least it was comfortable in the secretary’s office. Pym could relax, if he ever did. It was pretty comfortable in here, too. Ivan wandered round a little, checking out the facilities. Karasavas had keyed all the locks to Ivan’s thumbprint. There was a cocktail bar, thankfully empty, a drop down large screen, and a complex comcentre. The chair behind the desk was one of the most comfortable he’d ever sat in. Trust Vorclarence not to stint himself. With a sigh, Ivan sat back and started to punch in contact codes.

 

 


	11. Armsmen at last.

 

 

Ivan looked at the two former Vorclarence armsmen, seated very reluctantly and uncomfortably across the desk from him. They’d much rather be standing, at attention, and by the door, not the centre of his attention. It wasn’t their way. He had their personnel records; good men, both of them. They met his gaze straightly and spoke well when he asked them questions. It was no good, though. It was just… _wrong_. He sighed and dropped the stylus he’d been fiddling with.

“It’s not going to work, is it?”

He felt rather than saw Pym relax slightly. He and Fox had been silent observers until now. So, he’d made the right decision. Pym hadn’t liked it, either.

“It’s asking too much of you to give me a life oath, isn’t it? You’re never going to forget that I’m the man who killed your liege lord, even if I suspect you were relieved when it happened.” He thought rapidly for a few moments.

“You have two choices. You can take honourable retirement and retain all your rights and benefits, or you can work for me again in a sworn capacity, but not a life oath. I’d like to take advantage of your good service and experience if I possibly can.”

The more senior of the two, Sheridan, looked at his companion, Chalmers, and back to Ivan. “What did you have in mind, my lord?”

“The municipal guard. The former guard controller won’t be returning to his duties.” The former guard controller, the man who had once been Lord Vorclarence, was lined up for execution in the Great Square. The only reason he wasn’t dead already was that he’d had to wait, like all the rest of them, until _After the Wedding_.

“I’m going to need people who know the city like the back of their hand, who know where the rocks are to turn over and stamp on what wriggles out, and will do their work with integrity. The guard has been badly compromised and like everywhere, good people are hurting. You can divide it up between you, one for the overt activities and one for the covert work.”

Sheridan sat up straighter. “You want us to be _in command_ of the municipal guard, my lord? Not troopers?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to be troopers. You deserve better of me than that. Your families can stay in the Armsmen’s quarters until we find equivalent accommodation for you very close by, so there’ll be no need to change schools, or any employment your wives and children may have taken up. What do you say?”

Sheridan blinked. He struggled to find the words. “I…for myself and my family, my lord, I say thank you very much. Since my wife died…I'd been dreading what was going to become of the family. I’ll do a good job for you, and I won’t forget this.”

“Good. That’s one settled. Chalmers, how do you feel about it?”

The other former armsman hesitated. “May I have twenty-six hours to talk to my wife, my lord? She’s from Prestwich. She had some thought of us settling back there.”

Someone wanted to go back to Prestwich voluntarily? _Good grief_. Perhaps there were some parts of it he hadn’t seen.

“Even better. I need someone for Prestwich, too. There’s a huge drug problem there and the crime statistics are worse than New Sheffield. Go home and talk to your wife. That one will be a massive job if you take it on and she may not thank me for it.”

“If I may interrupt, my lord,” Pym said. “I checked through some of your correspondence this morning.”

So much for talking to his wife and kids, Ivan thought. Pym went on. “Your speech in the square yesterday must have struck home. There are several reports from informers in Prestwich relating to drugs. I think honest people are really wanting to see some action taken.”

“We should build on the good will. I don’t expect you to work miracles, Chalmers, but with my District medical officer offering help I think we can turn things around in Prestwich.” Ivan mentally crossed his fingers behind his back. Wally would come through. He had to. He really needed him.

By 1800 hours Ivan had had enough for one day. He’d solved some of his personnel problems. With Tsipis’s men slotting into financial management he could get his cash flow and salaries under control and have them render into simple language the financial audits Karasavas had authorised. Law and order was looking up, with the three main population centres on the road to stable management. He had quite a few ticks on his to-do list. He had to keep reminding himself he could only do one job at a time, but at least now with delegation more jobs could be done than he could manage on his own.

“We haven’t solved the Armsman problem, though, have we,” he remarked to Pym and Fox.

Pym gave him one of his level looks. “There are another six interviews lined up tomorrow, my lord. One of our jobs is to carry your baggage when we need to. We can’t do that if we’re carrying our own.”

That was a bit profound. Ivan thought about it for a moment or two. “Quite right. I’m starting from scratch, so my men should do the same thing, but the downside of that is they won’t have experience.”

Pym looked at the list of names. “Twenty years in ImpSec is hardly _no experience_ but they certainly won’t know about the other parts of the job. Keep your valet and your domestic staff for that side of things. You can have an unsworn driver and pilot for a while, like your predecessor, but that’s not ideal. I wouldn’t be using the same one, either. There are plenty of retiring service pilots looking for work so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ivan sighed and stretched back in his chair to loosen the knots in his neck and back. It was going to take years to build up a score anywhere near as good as the Vorkosigan men, and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

Pym had been going over the list of names. “There’s one here I recognise, my lord. It’s hard to believe he’s a twenty-year man, though. He was in my protection squad at Vorhartung Castle when I was running—” He stopped abruptly. “Anyway, I worked with him for about four or five years and he was shaping up to be a very handy soldier when I retired. He’d be a good man, unless he’s really changed since I saw him last. Harper, his name is. He’s from somewhere near Rotherhall, originally.”

“Well, at least he sounds promising. How about you, Fox, do you know anyone?”

“Not for your Armsmen’s squad, sir, but if you’re needing a secretary I can recommend a very good man. He served on the _Kanzian_ with me, one of my officers, actually. His name is Philip Nicolaides. Did all the work in the QM stores, finished as a lieutenant.”

There was something slightly guarded in the last comment. “Finished as?”

“Yes, my lord. There was an incident. He was broken back from lieutenant commander on the _Prince Serg_ and finished out his time with us.”

Ivan didn’t like the sound of that. “What sort of incident?”

“One of the enlisted men suffered some serious hazing. The XO did nothing about it, so Nicolaides did, and something about the XO, as well, if the scuttlebutt was to be believed. The enlisted man was a Greekie, sir, and the XO wasn’t too keen on Greekies.”

“I thought we were past that sort of thing in the service, these days? Obviously I was wrong. He must have got on so well with Nicolaides, then, I don’t think. What happened to the XO?” Ivan hadn’t heard any of this. It must have been hushed up remarkably well.

Fox let a little grin escape. “Kyril Island, sir. Lazkowski base weapons officer.”

“Oh. They sent him to Camp Permafrost.”

“Precisely.”

That was all he needed to know. “I’ll see Lieutenant Nicolaides. Do you have his contact details?”

“I caught up with him when I first got back. He lives here in New Sheffield, which is why I thought of him. His wife is a local.”

“See if you can get him in here tomorrow. Don’t let him know what I want him for, but the sooner he agrees the sooner I can relax.”

Pym had continued to scan the list Aral had provided. “This one sounds interesting. Lieutenant Enzo Devaux. There’s a French Quarter here in town. Good restaurants, or so I’m told. He’s just come back and retired from duty at the Betan Embassy. Courier officer.”

“Like Miles was a courier officer? I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out. He’ll have seen everything, if he was stationed on Beta. I could use someone like that, too. Get him in.”

It was five hours since they’d had lunch. Ivan powered down his comconsole and stood up. “It’s time to knock off for the day. You two are off duty in fifteen minutes, once we get back to the Residence. Thank you for a great day’s work.”

“It’s been an eye-opener for me,” Fox admitted. “I’ll need to pull my socks up to keep up with you, sir.”

They made their way out of the building and down to the front doors where two ImpSec guards sprang to attention. Pym automatically went first, checking the street and the nearby square. The sun had started to set, casting a glow over the square. The flowers had spread. They practically had to wade their way through to get to the walkway. It made Ivan think. If he’d done a good day’s work at Ops HQ no one would have said a word. It was just expected. The people here, though, were grateful to have him around. It was really beginning to look like they cared about him, as a person. He quite liked the idea.

There was a group of three people a little way back from the front steps. Press, Ivan realised. They moved forwards as they recognised him, but Fox darted past him immediately to stand in front of him beside Pym. Pym was quicker than Fox to draw his stunner.

“Halt!” Even Ivan stood up straighter at the snarling menace in just one word. The ImpSec guards came clattering down the steps behind him to close the security cordon. Pym _bristled_ with aggression. Ivan hadn’t seen him like this before.

“Hands where I can see them and identify yourselves. Right now!”

The trio immediately complied. One of them had to put something on the ground first. It was a vid camera. “We’re from _Vorc—Voralys News_ , Armsman. We’re the local news channel here in New Sheffield. We mean no harm. Our viewers would like some reassurance that Count Voralys was unharmed, yesterday.”

Pym gestured to one of the guards who ran forward with a scanner. Not content with that he patted them down as well. They’d learned their lesson the day before.

Pym turned to Ivan. “Would you care to talk to these people, sir?” His eyes were saying yes. The man was close to telepathic.

“I can make a brief statement. They can come forward.”

It was a very respectful press reporter, not something Ivan was used to, and fortunately male. The crew fiddled for a couple of moments until the lights and microphone were adjusted correctly. The reporter asked one question. “Count Voralys, sir, we witnessed a shocking incident in Prestwich yesterday. Are you able to tell us about your escape?”

Ivan looked into the camera. “A very brave man died yesterday. He died to save me, and for that I shall be eternally thankful and grateful. We must have peace and stability in this District, so that people like the Drury family, whom I met this morning, and every other family and individual can go about their daily lives without fear. I have sworn to the Emperor to do my best for you. I would like everyone else to do the same. I must also thank all those people who took the time to send their good wishes, or came here and in Prestwich today to leave a floral tribute. I won’t be able to thank you all individually, but I sincerely appreciate your good will. With that we can move forwards. Thank you all. Goodnight.”

The reporter opened his mouth but quailed at the look in Pym’s eye. He confined his remarks to a very simple, “thank you very much, Count.”

Ivan sat in solitary state in his dining room that night. One of the house staff served him dinner. It was all very depressing. Even By Vorrutyer was better fun than this. Still, at least he could have a quiet night, maybe catch up with the news. He hadn’t heard anything from Gregor and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he wasn’t going to poke a hornet’s nest by asking, that was for sure. Gregor would get round to him in his own sweet time.

Perhaps he could go out and find a bar? Even as the thought entered his head Ivan realised that he couldn’t do anything spontaneous like that, probably not ever again. If he wanted company he was going to have to invite people into the Residence. Well, not tonight; he’d promised Karasavas he wouldn’t have to worry about him. He’d go and send a message to Raine. She should be clear of Komarr now, and well on her way to Sergyar. Perhaps she’d sent _him_ another message. With a sigh, he wandered off to find the comconsole.

 

The two ex-Vorclarence armsmen had been wrong for the new team, but as he sat across the desk from ex-Lieutenant Philip Nicolaides the next afternoon, Ivan struggled to keep a grin off his face. Close to forty standard, impeccably neat, dark, wiry, and, well, _Greek,_ Nicolaides radiated energy, efficiency, and suspicion. He’d been respectful but not obsequious when Pym ushered him in, in no way overawed by his surroundings. His handshake was firm, dry and no-nonsense. He’d acknowledged Fox with a nod and a brief smile, glanced from Ivan to Pym, to Fox, and back again, folded his arms and sat back as his eyes narrowed in concentration on Ivan. He listened without comment as Ivan ran through his service history with him.

“Are you able to tell me what happened on the _Prince Serg_?” Ivan asked.

“Not beyond what’s on the record, my lord,” Nicolaides answered. “It speaks for itself. It is what it is.”

“Would you do it again, if you had your time over?”

Nicolaides thought for a moment. “I’d have decked the bastard, and been hanged for the sheep instead of the lamb. Probably literally, seeing as how he was a Vor bastard.”

Well, that was telling him. “Hmm. Do you have a problem with the Vor in general, then?”

“Only the Greekie-hating, nepotistic, slack-arsed, twelve-toed, bastard ones, my lord. I don’t think you have twelve toes and I know for a fact your parents were married.”

Ivan had to fight hard not to laugh out loud. “I see. That just leaves Greekie-hating, nepotistic and slack-arsed, then.” He turned to his new almost-armsman. “Fox, could you slip across the corridor and see if the major is in his office yet? Ask him if I could have five minutes of his time, please, if he’s there.”

They waited in silence for a few moments but it wasn’t long before Fox returned with Karasavas in tow. Nicolaides took one look at the Horus eyes and bristled in indignation.

Ivan could read his thoughts. “I’m not bringing in the death squad. I’d just like to introduce you to my security chief. Mikhail, this is Philip Nicolaides. Lieutenant Nicolaides, may I present Major Mikhail Karasavas?”

Nicolaides jumped to attention and shook hands with the major. He glanced at Ivan. “So, I was wrong for at least a third of my suppositions. I apologise, my lord.”

Fox folded his arms and stared at him. “If you think the Count is slack-arsed you’ve got a hell of a re-think coming. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard since I said goodbye to you.”

Ivan indicated for Nicolaides to sit again. “Major Karasavas, are you happy with your security check?”

The major nodded. “Yes, my lord, if you discount insubordination. He’s entirely loyal to the Emperor and he’s very passionate about justice,” He paused, looking directly at Nicolaides,“to a fault.”

“Nicolaides, I’m thinking of offering you an appointment. Do you think you can work with Major Karasavas, with Fox, and most especially very closely with me?”

“What sort of work did you have in mind, my lord?” He was still suspicious.

“Fox has told you I’ve been working hard, and quite frankly, I don’t like it. I’d rather pay someone else to work hard on my behalf. I need a personal secretary. I think you’d be ideal and I’d look forward to working with you. It would involve travel with me wherever I go, most especially to Vorbarr Sultana. You could live at home here in New Sheffield but your accommodation would be in Voralys House when we’re in the capital. Your family would be welcome to accompany you, but you may not see too much of them, from time to time. There would quite possibly be off-world travel as well.”

Nicolaides looked quite taken aback. Eventually he managed a response. “I suppose I could live with nepotistic.”

“Is that a yes?”

Nicolaides smiled broadly. “Yes, my lord Count. I’d be honoured.”

Ivan shook his hand. “Excellent. Can you start tomorrow?”

 

They were definitely on a roll. Karasavas took Nicolaides off to brief him, record thumbprints and retina scans and issue him with a stunner permit while Ivan returned to the armsman search. Both Harper and Devaux passed the Pym test. They passed the Ivan test as well, as did two more men from Count Vorkosigan’s list, Kosa and Sarmiento. With another two possibilities who both asked for time to think about the offer, it was as much as Ivan could hope for. Harper was genuinely pleased to see Pym again, and he also knew Sarmiento from Residence duty. Devaux was the youngest of the group. He looked remarkably fit and healthy for a former courier officer. They usually had the spacer’s pale complexion but Devaux still sported a good tan. He actually looked a lot like an Escobaran. He didn’t get _that_ tan on Beta.They all stayed out of the sun on Beta. _Ah…Escobar_. The other boot hit the floor. It was obviously a case of ask no questions be told no lies with this one, Ivan thought, but there was something about his attitude that impressed him. If he was good enough for Aral Vorkosigan that was good enough for anybody.

It was nearly 1800 hours. Ivan powered off his comconsole just as he’d done the day before, but with eight men around him there was no way he was going home for a solitary dinner tonight. He pressed his wristcom.

“Can you get a leave pass from your good lady, Major Karasavas?” he asked, “and how about Nicolaides? Pym, Fox, Kosa, Sarmiento, Devaux and Harper, we are going to find a restaurant. Anyone for Greek?”

 

 


	12. Ivan thinks he's toast

 

 

Ivan managed to push thoughts of Gregor summoning him to the capital to the back of his mind under the press of other urgent business. He’d returned to his new regime of a morning run and workout before manning his desk. There was a solid block of his own men around him now, plus the ImpSec squad, with Pym to set the pace. He’d get there, eventually. He kept telling himself that. He was up to three repetitions of the crunches, chinups and pushups, and that had to be progress.

He’d been smart enough not to drink any of the ouzo at the greek restaurant, too, although a couple of glasses of retsina might have slipped past. Karasavas hadn’t deemed it prudent to warn them in advance who it was that was coming and risk _someone else_ finding out, so he’d booked the table under a fictitious name. The proprietor, a man called Kailis, had nearly collapsed in terror as his squad moved in to screen the place, but he’d managed to pull himself together when he realised all they wanted to do was eat.

Ivan could have sworn he’d seen a pretty waitress when they’d first walked in, but that was the only time he’d seen her, Kailis doing all the serving himself. The food was good, varieties of lamb and charcoal-grilled vegetables, together with fresh salads laden with olives and white cheese, all on shared plates down the middle of the table with Kailis offering to taste them first in a very traditional guarantee of good faith. With a piece of good-natured banter Pym ascertained that Devaux was the youngest man present. As junior, _he_ got to taste the platters handed to Ivan to serve himself from.

Ivan appreciated the company. After his shock at Prestwich he felt himself start to relax at last. He had to let the others do the worrying for him; that’s what he was going to be paying them for, after all. He stood, abruptly, and raised his glass.

“Gentlemen, a toast. Tonight, we are proud to serve. To Barrayar, to the Emperor, and to Voralys District.” Pym, seated facing the door with Fox beside him, rose to his feet and tipped him an extra personal silent toast with his glass of mineral water.

Ivan was going to miss him when he went back to the Vorkosigans.

Nicolaides started in his new position early, paying the bill with the credit chit Ivan had slipped him. It was another sad indictment on his predecessor to see the way Kailis looked stunned to have the meal paid for. As he held the door and waved them goodby Ivan saw the first smile that had crossed his face all night. Was he happy that he’d been paid or was he happy to see the back of them? Hopefully word would get around that the new Count and his men weren’t thieves _or_ abusers. _Hopefully_ the waitress would feel safe enough to come out the next time, too.

 

Pym and Karasavas ran the armsmen candidates through processing and orientation while Ivan spent the whole of that first day working with Nicolaides. There was an avalanche of messages, petitions and invitations on the comconsole. They studied the inbox without much enthusiasm.

Ivan sighed. “Our first job is to triage this, somehow.”

He ran a search on his personal address book, updating which calls should come directly through to him and which he could leave Nicolaides to field. It was more than a trifle awkward when it came to his list of lady friends. His new secretary could speak volumes without saying a word, he discovered, as the man scrolled through the pages. It was time the whole list was updated, anyway. Apart from Raine he shunted the lot into a new category of _social contacts_ that Nicolaides could deal with. His _family and friends_ had a reshuffle, too as he added, among others, Raine, Wally, Aceline and By to the list. They could all come straight through to him. He needed another category for _District contacts_ andyet another for e _mployees_. That one was starting to fill alarmingly.

In his capacity as stores officer Nicolaides had developed a very nice bullshit filter which tallied extremely well with Ivan’s own experience from Ops. Between the two of them they worked through a variety of standard and non-standard responses, ranging from _the Count has asked me to thank you very much for your good wishes_ through _your query has been forwarded to the correct department,_ or even _please apply on the correct form and wait your turn,_ all the way to _hell, no,_ _not in this lifetime._

“I think you can rephrase a few of these to avoid causing offence,” Ivan told him, “but you get the general idea.”

“I think I do, sir. Hopefully everything that reaches you should be social or on a needs to know basis. I can’t guarantee the odd snake in the grass won’t slip through, though. Have you decided when you’re going to start taking appointments? There seem to be rather a lot of people wanting a chunk of your time.”

“It _is_ a bit like sorting the snakes in the Vorbarr Sultana ophidiarium, isn’t it? You make sure I only get the really venomous ones to deal with. Unless it’s life and death, no appointments until I’ve been back to Vorbarr Sultana. Just tell them I’m waiting on the Emperor’s pleasure. I’ll have to drop everything and just go when he calls, so your first priority is to get a _State of the District_ report ready to go at a moment’s notice. Get finance on to updating their figures daily, plus crime reports, population statistics, all that kind of thing.”

“Certainly, sir. Is that my first first priority or my second first priority? Are there any other immediate requirements?”

Ivan rolled his eyes at him. “By the end of the day, please. I also need to upgrade the Residence staff. We’re running on a skeleton crew and that’s not going to work when I start entertaining. In particular, I need a head cook and kitchen team. We’ve already got a lot of mouths to feed over there in the Residence and I’m not that struck on the cook we have now. I think I’m going to have to pension him off. Vorclarence seemed to be extremely fond of stodge, from what I’ve been served up with so far. Some of the choices I’ve been offered sound rather bizarre. Have you ever heard of spotted dick, for example?”

Nicolaides kept his face straight. “I do believe it’s a traditional District dessert, sir. It’s a fruit dumpling served hot with a custard sauce.”

“Thank God for that.” Ivan grinned. “As one of the other choices was pig’s trotter I didn’t know what to think.”

The secretary allowed himself to smile this time. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ivan wasn’t done with his planning. “Can you remember the name of the man who just made Colonel in the Corps of Engineers? They were talking about him at Ops before I left. I’m interested in seeing if he wants his men to do a spot of training.”

Nicolaides thought for a moment. “I don’t know him personally but I think that would be Colonel Otto. Very efficient and very happy to get his hands dirty.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Lord Auditor Vorthys commended him for his emergency work on the Komarr soletta. He managed to stabilise what was left of it before the civilian crews took over. I know Gregor was impressed with him. I’ll get on to him personally and leave the rest to you, shall I?”

“Certainly sir.” Nicolaides eyed his comconsole with a martial light in his eye. “Let’s get this seen to.”

 

At 0730 hours the next morning Ivan had just finished dressing and was contemplating breakfast when the comconsole chimed its special tell-tale summons. He dismissed his valet and hurried to answer.

“Good morning, sire. How was the honeymoon?”

Gregor had been looking somewhat stern but his thoughts were diverted momentarily. His whole face softened. “It went very well, thank you. It’s really good to see you in good health. We were rather alarmed when We heard what happened.”

“Yes, sire. It _was_ rather…alarming. I presume you’ve seen the report? Captain Fenerty—” Ivan thought he had his emotions under control regarding Fenerty, but just saying his name choked his throat with bitter grief. He swallowed hard and continued. “You know exactly what that’s like, of course.”

“It never gets any easier.” Gregor paused for a moment. “Ivan, We need to talk to you. We’d like you here by 1400 hours.”

“Er, certainly, sire. Is this District business?”

Gregor looked straight at him. Once he’d stopped thinking about Laisa, Ivan knew him well enough to see a profound distress behind his eyes. Not District business, then. “We’ll discuss it when you get here, Count.”

The Emperor cut the com. _1400 hours_. Ivan calculated rapidly. He called Nicolaides and Karasavas at their homes, then pressed his wristcom for Pym and Fox to let them know the change of plans for the day. He called his valet back. What to wear? Would what he’d got on do? It was a touch informal. Best change. It had all been so much easier when dress greens were the automatic choice for an audience with the Emperor. He settled on a previously unworn, smart, dark blue suit with a hint of silver piping on the tunic and leg seam. As he began to strip off and change he told his valet to start packing. There was too much to do; breakfast would have to wait.

He still had the use of an ImpSec lightflyer, but Ivan knew he was on borrowed time with that one. There was a lightflyer belonging to the District in the capital, so if push came to shove he could fly it back himself, or if Pym was still with him he could certainly do it. There was room in this one for himself, Pym, Fox, Nicolaides, and Harper. Karasavas wasn’t about to let Ivan out of his sight until a replacement for Fenerty had been arranged, so he came along as well. Ivan’s valet sat in front with the pilot. Somehow, they’d managed to scramble to be ready by 1100 hours. That should give them a bit of breathing space at the other end. Miles wasn’t answering his com but Ivan devoutly hoped he’d get the message in time to give him a run down. The last thing he wanted to do was put his foot in it and add to Gregor’s distress.

As the distinct skyline of Vorbarr Sultana came into view Ivan felt a sense of homecoming. He’d spent most of his life here. It was his city. As they circled in the traffic control pattern the Star bridge and the ancient battlements of Vorhartung Castle were picturesquely beautiful, even from this distance. Count’s privilege saw them cleared to land at the parking lot at the castle. It was a privilege he could easily get used to, and so much better than struggling through the traffic from the public flyerport. They were still thirty minutes early for the appointment and Miles hadn’t got back to him. He’d wait until the last minute. There wasn’t enough time to get to Voralys House, so Ivan settled for a quick coffee and snack at Shoko’s instead. He sent his valet off to unpack and take the rest of the night off, and then thought about Pym.

“Pym, you head home to see Ma Pym and the kids while you’ve got the chance, and see if you can find out where I can get hold of the Lord Auditor. Take the rest of the day off. You can meet us back at Voralys House tomorrow, if the Countess will let you come. I hope she does. Major Karasavas will look after me just fine in the meanwhile."

It would be just like the little runt to be half way to Komarr without telling him, but Ivan hung on in the hope of some sort of communication from Miles. While he was waiting he had time to call Etienne Vorinnis to set up a meeting and also confirm the appointment he’d made with Colonel Otto for the next day. All too soon he had to drain his coffee and head for The Residence. _Thanks for nothing, Vorkosigan_. He was glad he’d had something to eat, though. Getting a grilling from Gregor when his blood sugar was too low was a mistake he didn’t want to make more than once in his lifetime. He sent Nicolaides off to Voralys House to familiarise himself with the set up there, and left Fox and Harper with Karasavas to wait for him in the main foyer on the wrong side of security. As he left them Fox was already quizzing Harper about his time guarding the Emperor.

Nothing much looked different at The Residence, and yet everything had changed. His mother wasn’t there for one; Ivan didn’t feel the need to look over his shoulder or try to blend in with the decor. He arrived in the outer office with five minutes to spare and received an almost cordial greeting from Gregor’s secretary. That made a change, too, from his usual cool impartiality. Ivan left his District report with him in case the Emperor wanted to see it later. He didn’t really have the time to sit there and examine his guilty conscience like a naughty schoolboy as Gregor didn’t keep him waiting; at exactly 1400 the secretary showed him in. The old urge to come to attention and salute hadn’t left him. It felt strange not to do it. He managed a respectful bow instead, but still stood afterwards with his back braced and his thumbs down the seams of his trousers. Gregor sat behind his desk, wearing one of his civilian outfits. Ivan’s hunch not to wear his Count’s uniform had been right. He stood there and studied him as he waited for Gregor to speak.

Most uncharacteristically, Gregor failed to meet his gaze for a moment or two. He fiddled with the papers on his desk and then jumped to his feet to pace. “Aral told me that you know; that it was your friend Mademoiselle Vorfolse who sprung this on us. You didn’t think to tell me sooner.”

Ivan didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what _this_ was. Instead he tried to gauge the level of Gregor’s anxiety. It was profoundly unsettling to see him like this. “We didn’t know anything for sure until the morning of the wedding, sire. We couldn’t tell you then. You deserved to enjoy the day, and your honeymoon. Aral requested and required me to be quiet about it but I told him I wasn’t ever going to lie to you. I don’t know much, but you can ask me anything you like.”

Gregor didn’t answer him directly. He stood with his back to the window so that it was hard to see the expression on his face. “I've sent Miles to Vorguriyev District. The trail is cold everywhere else. Guy Allegre is chewing nails and spitting rust. This Vorresiak has just disappeared—” Gregor broke off.

Something was seriously not right. Ivan crossed the room to stand just in front of Gregor. He wasn’t handling this well. “Vorresiak. Your _brother_.”

Gregor looked like he was going to choke. His breathing had speeded up and his eyes looked… _wrong_. Gregor was _never_ agitated. “It’s an absolute nightmare. Ivan, I can’t—”

This wasn’t his Emperor, this was his cousin and he was bleeding. Ivan had never seen him react like this to _anything_. It might be _off with his head_ , but so be it. He threw protocol and convention to the wind, put his arms round Gregor and hugged him. His mother would shoot him dead on the spot if she could see him now. Any of Gregor’s armsmen would as well. After one startled gasp, Gregor hugged him back like a drowning man, his breath ragged and gasping. They stood, not speaking, Ivan moving one hand slowly up and down Gregor’s tense back. As soon as the grip slacked Ivan let go and stepped away.

“I won’t make a habit of that, but you needed it right now. We—the family—are not going to let you go through this on your own. Have you got anything to drink in here?”

Gregor touched his lapel and murmured. A few moments later Armsman Gerard entered the room with a bottle of wine and glasses. He left the tray on the table by the window and withdrew in silence. Ivan poured two glasses, took the first sip and then handed one to Gregor. As they sat down he told him the tale of the Greekie restaurant and how Devaux had drawn the short straw as taster. He twittered on until Gregor regained control.

“Devaux has served the Imperium very well. I'm glad he’s found you, Ivan. He’s a good man.”

“They all are. I’m thinking of kidnapping Pym permanently, but Miles might have something to say about that.”

“Pym’s a Vorkosigan man. You would never be able to pry him away from his District, or his Count, for long.”

Ivan sighed. “Yes, I know. I can dream. Anyway, if you’re feeling any better, I’d like to make a couple of points, if I may.”

Gregor shrugged. “Is there _anything_ you can say to make things better? I find I can’t be rational where anything to do with Prince Serg, with _my father_ , is concerned. I thought I had him dead and buried. Blown to atoms, at least. I…I’m spooked, for want of a better word.”

“Well, yes, sire, there’s plenty to say. Crown Prince Serg may have been this man’s father, but the Crown Princess was _not_ his mother. You have all of Kareen’s bravery, character, morals and strength, or so my mother has often told me. You’re kind and loyal. You’ve got _her_ temperament, not Serg’s. You had what, fifteen or sixteen years of Aral and Cordelia’s influence and more when Aral was Prime Minister. You’re _not_ going to turn into Serg now. You have to stop worrying about that. You’re the best thing that’s happened to Barrayar in four generations and I’m immensely proud to serve you.”

Gregor smiled, although his eyes remained bleak. “There is that. Drou has told me much the same. I should start believing it.”

“Damn straight you should.” Ivan sipped on his drink and refilled Gregor’s glass.

“And there’s another thing. I know you have to be in control. You always have to be in control because without it there would be chaos. It’s just…you need to realise everybody else doesn’t manage to be nearly as in control as you do. Not even Aral, or Guy Allegre, and god help us we know Miles is _never_ in control but, it’s OK to feel like you’re not in control, sometimes, to be sad and miserable and upset and frustrated and…it’s how I spend most of my life, actually.”

This was coming out all wrong. Ivan couldn’t make his mouth articulate his thoughts. “You’re worrying because you’re worried and you’re thinking you can’t do your job properly because you’re not allowed to be off-centre and worried. Well you are, and you can, and you can trust everyone else to do your worrying for you.”

Gregor stared at him. “Thank you, I think.”

“Oh, hell.” Ivan threw his hands up in disgust and then finished off his drink in one gulp.

“What I’m trying to say is you have family who love you and will _always_ have your back, no matter what, and not even you can be perfect all of the time. Number one in that family is Laisa, now.”

It was way past time to change the subject. “Tell me what it’s like to be a married man. I’m thinking about it myself. Have your spies told you that I’ve asked Valeraine Vorfolse to marry me?”

Gregor’s smile reached his eyes this time. “That’s wonderful news, Ivan, and I can highly recommend it. Laisa—I can’t begin to tell you.”

It was Ivan’s turn to feel anxiety. “Raine didn’t say yes, though, and then all of this has blown up. She’s run away to Beta and she may never come back.”

“She’ll come back.” Gregor finished off his second glass, but refused any more. “You make me feel better just by being you, Ivan. Thank you. I needed that.” He glanced at his chrono and sighed. “People to see. I wish it was places to go, but I’m stuck. I want you to stay in town for a few days. I’m sorry to drag you away from your District, but, well, I need a friend around. I’m holding an awards ceremony next week, now that Vorinnis is feeling better. The two of you will be getting your Gold Stars. Vorberg’s off planet so he’ll have to wait, but I’ll be seeing Major Karasavas as well, plus there’s Fenerty. I’d like you to receive his star and see it gets to his sister. He deserves nothing less. There’ll be others of course. There are always others. I’m just grateful to present most of them in person.”

Ivan stood and bowed again. “Just call. Any time. In the middle of the night, even—” he broke off. He’d forgotten. He couldn’t help himself; he grinned. “No, not in the middle of the night, unless you can think of nothing better to do.”

He thought for another moment. “Have you told Henri?”

Gregor shook his head. “I can’t tell Henri. That’s why I needed to talk to you.”

An uncomfortable suspicion crossed Ivan’s mind. “ You have told Laisa, though?” He got no reply so he asked again. “Gregor, does Laisa know about this?”

“I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Oh, Gregor.” Ivan blew out a lungful of air. “This is personal. You have to tell her, or I can do it for you. She’ll think you don’t trust her, otherwise.”

“You think so? Really?” Gregor looked miserable.

“I don’t think. I know. How’s she going to feel if the rest of your family knows about this and she doesn’t? Aunt Cordelia said the exact same thing to me, and she was right, and I’m not even married to Raine yet. Laisa should have been the first person you turned to. Have you talked to _her_ , by the way, Cordelia, I mean?”

Gregor coloured slightly. “I…er…had a miscommunication with Aral. I got angry. I just couldn’t believe what he and Miles wanted to tell me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, for a while, then I eventually talked to Miles because I couldn’t keep him out any longer and then I couldn’t bear talking to anybody, after that, until I called you.”

“He’ll do that to you, every time,” Ivan agreed.

Gregor suppressed a rueful laugh. “Yes, well. Anyway, Cordelia is waiting for me to call her. She said she wasn’t going to wait very long, though, in the message she left for me. I should do that.”

Ivan headed for the door. “I’m going to check with you tonight to make sure you _have_ done it, but first you tell Laisa, and _then_ you call Aunt Cordelia. In that order, sire. No excuses and no arguments.”

Ivan hadn’t cleared the outer office before he started sweating.

_Dear God, had he really just laid hands on his Emperor, and given him orders? Yes, he really had. He was_ toast _._

 

 


	13. Council of War

 

 

Armsman Gerard was waiting for him in the corridor. Ivan quailed a little, but braced himself for the inevitable. Of course Gerard would have been watching.

“Were you able to help him, my lord Count?”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting, at all. Gerard wouldn’t know the particulars, but he’d know his master was deeply troubled. Ivan had learned about armsmen in the past few weeks. Once he wouldn’t have said a word to them about anything personal. He felt differently now.

“I don’t know, Gerard. I hope so. Are you able to get Her Imperial Majesty down here any time soon? He needs to talk to her.”

Gerard nodded. “I think that can be arranged. Her appointment calendar is reasonably clear until the end of the week. The Emperor didn’t want her overburdened straight away.” _Not like him._

“Good. I’m going to call the Vicereine and she’ll need to see him as soon as possible, as well. Between us we’ll see him through this. Er…were you watching?”

Gerard denied it. “No, Count. That office isn’t monitored unless His Imperial Majesty turns the system on personally.”

_Lucky for him._ He’d dodged a bullet there. Literally. “You’ll let me know if I’m needed, won’t you? If you think there’s _anything_ I can do.”

The armsman smiled. “I will, sir, unless my orders specifically forbid it.”

“Good man.” Ivan clapped him on the shoulder and strode off. He suppressed the urge to run for his life.

Karasavas had organised an ImpSec ground car for them. Ivan sat in the corner on the way back to Voralys House, lost in his thoughts, not really registering the passing streets or the concerned looks he knew were being cast his way. He still felt badly shaken by his meeting with Gregor. Apart from the time he’d been accused of treason, he didn’t think his world had been rocked so badly since he’d found out that Father Frost was a social construct. Gregor, the Emperor, was their solid foundation, the linchpin of Barrayaran society. He couldn’t falter or they’d all be lost. Gregor the man, on the other hand, was even more important, Ivan realised. He couldn’t be allowed to suffer like that.

The first thing he did on reaching Voralys House was call Countess Cordelia. She was at home and answered from her comconsole in the library.

“Ivan, how are you? Pym tells me you’re here in town.”

“I’ve just come from The Residence, Aunt Cordelia. Gregor called me in. I think he’d like to speak to you.”

She glanced briefly at the comconsole. “This isn’t a very secure link, Ivan. Are you able to come to Vorkosigan House? Aral is here. Come for dinner.”

“I’d like that, Aunt Cordelia. 1900 hours?”

“Come sooner, if you can make it. We need a council of war. Why don’t you bring your staff? Your armsmen candidates can see what goes on here and your secretary can talk to Aral’s aide-de-camp.”

“That’s very kind of you, Aunt. I’m sure they’ll be delighted. See you at 1800 hours then.” Ivan cut the com and looked at his chrono. He had two hours. Time to talk to people.

By Vorrutyer answered his com link very promptly. “Good afternoon, Count. I didn’t have you down as a mindreader. I’ve just sat down to call you.”

“Great minds think alike.” He waited for it, but just lately By had grown remarkably, well, you could hardly call it _mellow,_ but maybe slightly less acerbic. It might have something to do with the fact that Ivan was paying him money these days.

By just opened his eyes and gave him a look. “I have some preliminary designs I thought you might like to give the once-over.”

“Good. Send them through. I’m going to need some armsmen’s uniforms right away. I can’t swear them in until they’ve got something to wear.”

By’s eyes narrowed and he looked for a second like an evil conspirator. “I did have a very quiet word to Pym, when I got the chance and I was up surprisingly early one day. He wouldn’t _dream_ of criticising his own uniform but he did give me a couple of pointers for improvements he was going to suggest to take advantage of the more modern fabrics out there. Anyway, I’m copying these through to you now. Any developments in that other little matter?”

Ivan shook his head. “I came up to town to speak to the Emperor. I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Ah.” By looked thoughtful. “I hear the Lord Auditor has been sent away again. It might give me the chance to call on Madame Vorsoisson without falling foul of one or three of his ferocious armsmen.” He paused as Ivan bristled at his effrontery. “She’s actually asked to speak to me, Ivan. I’m not totally stupid. I was never a runner in that Vor race.”

“I might just come too, if Miles is away,” Ivan decided out loud. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, By, but I don’t trust you.”

“Ivan Vorpatril playing the duenna is just a tad…ironic, don’t you think, or do I mean hypocritical? Both, maybe.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Ivan acknowledged the justice of By’s remark, “But that’s not going to stop me keeping an eye on _you_. Anyway, I want to see Ekaterin myself. District business,” he clarified, as By’s smirk grew broader than ever.

“Yes, of course. I’ll let you know when I’m going to Lord Auditor Vorthys’ house. I might see you there.”

“You can bet on it.” Ivan cut the com. Within a few seconds a file came through from By. Ivan opened it and idly scrolled through the first few holovid pictures, close ups of schematics of his sigil, streamlined and stylised as a corporate logo. The uniforms caught his attention, though, so very traditional and yet so _stylish_. There was no other word for it. By had gone with the new district colour of deepest blue, with white blouses and shirts for administrative workers and silver embroidery in a variety of combinations of acorns and oak leaves to denote role and seniority. For manual workers the outfits were a practical dark blue throughout with the silver embroidery confined to the collars. They were excellent, but Ivan actually caught his breath at the armsmen’s uniforms. They were the perfect combination of sinister and practical, slightly more fitted than some of the traditional outfits he’d seen about town.

He quickly copied the designs to a data disk. Pym would be the one to ask about these, but his opinion of By notched up considerably. The man had a genuine talent. It was a shame it had been wasted for so long.

 

Thirty minutes before he was due to leave for Vorkosigan House Ivan swallowed his apprehension and slotted his special code card into his comconsole. It chimed twice before Gregor’s gatekeeper answered.

The man bowed slightly. “My lord Count. His Imperial Majesty is anticipating a call from you. Please wait while I connect you.”

It took only a moment for Gregor to appear. Laisa sat beside him with her arm through his. He looked much better and even managed a genuine smile for Ivan. “Checking up on me, Ivan?”

“Just keeping a promise, sire, and yes, checking on your welfare.”

Laisa spoke up. “Ivan, I really need to thank you. I just don’t get the way Barrayarans think, sometimes.” She squeezed Gregor’s arm. “ I don’t think my husband has ever heard about _a problem shared is a problem halved._ Silly man _._ I’m sure he thought I was going to blame him for something. Can you believe that?”

“Old habits are hard to break, ma’am. He’s carried all of our problems entirely on his own for fifteen years.—”

“I _am_ here, you know.” Gregor sounded more resigned than offended.

“Yes, sire, but not on your own. You never have to be on your own again, unless you want to. I’ll be talking to Countess Vorkosigan tonight and I’ll send her round to see you in the morning. Gerard is going to arrange things.”

Gregor raised one eyebrow. “It’s a conspiracy. You might have a problem with that, though. I almost wish I was a fly on the wall to hear you when you try to order Countess Vorkosigan around.”

Ivan had to grin at that one. “I’ll be sure to keep my head on my shoulders. I’ll _suggest_ it. Anyway, I’ll get back to Gerard to organise the time. He’ll let you know. If you hear anything from Miles that you’re able to pass on I’d be very grateful. I know Raine is worrying. She should be almost at Beta by now.”

“Miles has reported that there’s nothing to report. I should imagine that doesn’t include any of the innocent bystanders who’ve fallen foul of him so far. Anyway, Ivan, you don’t need to worry about me tonight. Thank you for what you did.”

“My pleasure, sire. Take a rest this evening.”

Gregor cut the com. Vastly relieved, Ivan fired off another message to Raine and tried a call to Marie. He hadn’t had the chance to speak to her today with his rushed start. His mother’s cool voice answered after a short while. It was strange that the vid feed had been deselected.

“Ivan? We weren’t expecting you to call this late.”

He looked at his chrono. “Late? It’s only 1720 hours, Mamère.”

“Late for you, I meant. We’re all just changing after a day on the beach. Ma McIver has Marie in the bath and I’ve only just stepped out of the shower.”

Ah, that was why the vid was cut. Mamère wouldn’t like anyone to see her in her robe.

“Alys?” That was Simon’s voice in the background. “Would you like me to talk to Ivan while you get some clothes on?”

Ivan felt his eyes pop open as he lost control of his lower jaw. His mother hadn’t—she wouldn’t, would she? He shuddered. Dear lord, he really, really didn’t want to know.

“Don’t worry, Mamère. Just let Marie know I called, will you? I only wanted to tell you that I’m back in Vorbarr Sultana for a few days. I’ll call her tomorrow at the usual time.”

He cut the com and staggered off. Perhaps she’d just had a towel on, or something. An even more disturbing thought weaselled its way into his head. What if he’d interrupted something? _Something with Simon._ He needed a stiff drink. No, no he didn’t. He needed a _strong_ drink.

 

Armsman Roic opened the door for them at Vorkosigan House. Jankowski was there to take Fox and Harper off to wherever the armsmen congregated and Aral’s aide-de-camp collected Nicolaides just outside the door to the library. Karasavas peeled off with an ImpSec lieutenant and Ivan was shown into the library where Aral and Cordelia waited for him. The count rose from his armchair to shake his hand.

“Glad to see you looking much better than when I left you in New Sheffield, my boy. Cordelia tells me you did brilliantly. We’re all so proud of you. Miles was sorry to miss you. He’s over in Vorguriyev’s District doing what Miles does best. I’m sure we’ll be getting the casualty reports shortly.”

Nobody knew Miles like his parents did. Ivan could only grin in appreciation.

“Have you heard from your mother?” Cordelia asked. “I tried to speak to her today but the answering machine was on.”

“Yes, Aunt. I spoke to her very briefly just before I came here. They’d spent the day at the beach. She and Simon seem to be…um…relaxing quite nicely.”

Cordelia gave him one of her Betan looks. “Get used to it, Ivan. It’s about time both of them got more…relaxed. They deserve it.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I’m trying very hard to get used to it, honestly, I am. I know they both deserve to be happy, but—”

“No buts. What would you like to drink? Wine?”

“Yes, please.” It was probably too early in the evening to ask for the maple mead.

Roic opened the library door to announce Byerly Vorrutyer. Ivan did a double take, but By knew just about everything he did, after all. This council of war was going to pool _all_ of their resources.

“Byerly. Thank you for coming.” Cordelia poured another glass of wine. Aral shook his hand and indicated a chair for him to sit. Ivan nodded a welcome.

“I love the designs, By. You should have been doing those years ago.”

By shrugged. “Perhaps. Life turned out differently.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here tonight? We only spoke an hour or so ago.”

“Same reason you didn’t tell me, I suppose, Count. Need to know.”

Ivan sipped his wine. “Well, you’re discreet when you want to be. I’ll give you that.”

Aral had been frowning into his drink. “Anyone have anything new to report?”

Ivan waited, but no-one volunteered any information. “I talked to Gregor earlier. He’s taking this very badly. He hadn’t told Laisa anything about it. I managed to get him to talk to her, and I’d like to organise a time with Armsman Gerard for you to talk to him, Aunt. I…um…sort of told him he had to. I was expecting to be clapped in irons any minute. He did tell me you’d had a disagreement, sir.”

Aral grimaced. “It didn’t go very well, I must admit. He was terribly shocked. I don’t think he could believe the gene scans hadn’t been followed up, but we really didn’t have that technology thirty years ago. By the time we did everyone had forgotten about the orphans. I remember how shocked _I_ was to see a uterine replicator. I’d never even heard of such a thing.”

Cordelia, at least, looked happy. “I’ll get on to Gerard straight away. I think first thing in the morning would be best, while he’s still mellow from waking up with Laisa. Maybe even over breakfast.”

By caught Ivan’s eye and they both nearly choked. Ivan was a little more used to his Aunt Cordelia than Byerly was, obviously, but it was still gobsmacking the way she talked so casually about topics no Barrayaran would even dream of mentioning.

Aral grinned at the expressions on their faces. “Try thirty years of it. I’ll never forget the time she told the Count-my-father that he probably had bastard relations in the Caravanserai.”

‘Why? What did I say?” Cordelia asked, perplexed. She looked around at the three of them and just sighed. “Barrayarans!”

It was time to change the subject. “If Miles doesn’t turn over the appropriate rocks in Vorguriyev’s District, have we got any other clues?”

Byerly was the one to speak. “I think our missing link is Louis Vorbataille. I’ve been trying to find out what he’s up to but his friends either don’t know anything or know he was mixed up with the Vorclarence affair and have distanced themselves from him as fast as a jump pinnace through a wormhole.”

Aral nodded. “ImpSec’s on his tail. The arrest warrant is half way to Jackson’s Whole by now. The second he jumps into Imperial territory he’ll be pounced on. If he runs in the other direction it might be a job for an extraction squad. Either way, we’ll find out what he knows.”

“So what can we do here? It’s frustrating.” Ivan jumped up and started pacing. “Miles works best on his own. I’m happy to help him if he needs anything, but I really don’t think there’s anything I can do.” Once, not so long ago he would have run a mile rather than get mixed up with his cousin’s machinations, but this involved Raine, and it involved Gregor, and it was all entirely _wrong_. It needed fixed yesterday.

“You could have a party.”

Ivan, Cordelia and Aral all looked at Byerly in astonishment.

“What good would that do?” Ivan demanded.

“Think about it, Ivan. You’re young.” Byerly tried to explain. “You’re suddenly in a powerful position. Every young Vor lordling in Vorbarr Sultana would flock to Voralys House to hear the gossip and try to get in your good books. Ply them with enough liquor and who knows what we might pick up, especially if you invite Vorbataille’s friends? I know Theo Vormercier's in town. If he doesn't know what's going on he's certain to know where Vorbataille is hiding. Invite Marcel Vorevreaux as well. _He_ couldn't lie straight in bed and I'm pretty sure Louis Vorbataille is his supplier for the drugs he sells. If they think you're willing to get involved in their scene we might just get the information we need."

Ivan could almost see the wheels working in By's brain as he went on. "Get Guy Allegre involved. We need to hire some of Gregor’s ImpSec waiters and plant a few bugs.”

Cordelia nodded approval. “It wouldn’t work here, but I believe that might be an idea, Ivan. What do you think?”

Ivan could think of a few things he’d prefer to do than invite all the town clowns to a party at his expense, but By was right. What they lacked was information.

“I’ll talk to Guy Allegre” Aral said. “We need him and his men onside for this. Byerly can’t be part of every conversation, although I’m sure he’ll try. When do you think you can do it, Ivan?”

By checked his calendar. He would know every party happening in town for the next month. “What about a week tonight? There’s only a soiree that Countess Vorinnis is holding. That’s not going to appeal to Vorbataille’s crowd.”

Aral agreed. “Miles should be back by then, anyway. I can’t see him needing more than a week where he is. He can help Guy Allegre with the analysis. If it looks like he’s not invited that might encourage people to believe you’ll be more sympathetic to alternative viewpoints.”

By clicked his fingers. "Ivan, you know what would make Miles ready to murder you? You could seriously fall out over Ekaterin."

“We wouldn't need to pretend if I did anything like that, but you could always drop a few hints, I suppose, as long as Miles knows the truth. You wouldn't be too keen on me either, would you, Uncle Aral, Aunt Cordelia?"

Aral shook his head. "You got that right, son."

Ivan weighed it up. "About this party idea. I won’t have any armsmen sworn in before then,” he pointed out. “They need to do the security course first. Do you think ImpSec will swing for the guard duty? I don’t want town clowns all over my house.”

“What do ordinary mortals do, Ivan?” By shook his head. “Hire some security guards, that’s what. You’ve already got ImpSec on tap for your waiters, after all.”

“I can’t be robbing my District of their hard-earned money for something like this! Gregor didn’t give me Vorclarence’s bank account to squander it. That money needs to go back to the people it was screwed from.”

Cordelia looked at Aral. It was one of _those_ looks; the telepathic communication ones. “It’s a pity Alys isn’t here. She’d be very proud of your scruples, Ivan. You’ve really grown into this, haven’t you?”

“Having someone die for you would do that to anyone, Aunt Cordelia. I owe every day of the rest of my life to Captain Fenerty, but it’s more than that. It’s justice, really. You’ve seen those people in my District. I didn’t have to think about anyone but myself before this.”

Armsman Roic entered the room with a trolley of hors d’oeuvres. The atmosphere lightened suddenly. Ma Kosti’s creations would do that every time. Ivan helped himself to a melt-in-the-mouth prawn puff. Half way between the plate and his mouth with the next one he had an idea.

“Aunt Cordelia, would it be all right with you if I went down and had a word with Ma Kosti? I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“You know Miles will send the full squad of armsmen after you if you try to poach Ma Kosti, don’t you, Ivan?” Cordelia laughed. “I tried to get her to come to Sergyar and it was nearly a family breach.”

“Nothing like that, Aunt. I just need her advice.”

Cordelia acquiesced. “Roic will take you down. Don’t interrupt her dinner preparations for too long though, will you?”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.” Ivan looked at By, quietly making inroads on the offerings. “Not quick enough for there to be anything left on that trolley, though.”

Ma Kosti looked up from her stove, where she was whisking a sauce with intense ferocity. “My lord! So lovely to see you. Would you please excuse me for one moment? I can’t leave this. If you don’t mind talking while I work go right ahead.”

“I wouldn’t dream of interrupting.” Ivan parked himself on a stool next to the remains of the hors d’oeuvres. There were a couple of pastry puffs that had broken, and the cut ends of some tiny roulades, not quite perfect enough to serve to guests. “This will do me nicely until you finish.”

He watched Ma Kosti thicken up her sauce and pour it over a dish of vat salmon fillets. She popped it into the oven and then wiped her hands as she came over to Ivan.

“How may I help you, my lord?”

“Ma, Kosti, I really need your help. I want you to recommend a cook that can save me from pigs’ trotters and spotted dick.”

“That’s prole food!” My Kosti sniffed. “They surely don’t feed you that in New Sheffield?” She sounded absolutely scandalised.

“They do. Pease pudding, bubble and squeak, and I didn’t even _dare_ ask what that was, hot pot, and…and—” Ivan tried to make himself look really pitiful, “tripe.”

“Tripe?”

“Tripe.” Ivan confirmed it dolefully. “In white sauce. With lumps.”

Ivan hadn’t seen Pym walk into the kitchen. He didn’t realise he was there until he heard a smothered laugh behind him. He refused to turn around. “I know you’d never leave Miles, but there must be _someone_ you know. Even half as good as you would be brilliant. One of your old apprentices, maybe?”

Ma Kosti furrowed her brow in thought. “Can you leave it with me, my lord? I do know of a couple of possibilities, but I’m not sure they would be willing to move to New Sheffield. I could let you know tomorrow.”

“That would be excellent. I’m holding a reception next week at Voralys House. Perhaps they would be willing to cater for that, as a trial? I’d pay them well. That way we can see if we suit each other. Otherwise I’ll just have to hire a catering company.”

Ma Kosti looked like she wanted to wash his mouth out. “I’m sure it won’t come to _that_ , my lord.”

Well-satisfied with his progress, Ivan left her to get on with dinner. He gave Pym a broad wink on the way out.

 

 


	14. Aral has advice, Ivan has plans, but apparently so does Miles.

 

 

There were extra places set in the dining room. Pym joined them along with Fox and Harper. Aral’s aide-de-camp appeared with Nicolaides in tow and Karasavas came in with the ImpSec lieutenant. Cordelia welcomed them as Ivan introduced them all. Fox managed to look at ease in the distinguished company but the other two of Ivan’s men who hadn’t yet met him were wide-eyed with awe to shake hands with Aral Vorkosigan.

Aral looked at Nicolaides with a penetrating stare as he was introduced. “I was very sorry to learn what had happened to you, Nicolaides, when the details of the case came to my attention. There was no avoiding the verdict of the court martial. To strike a superior officer in front of subordinates can have no lesser outcome. It was wrong of you,” Aral paused to wink. “But I would have done exactly the same thing if I had been in your position. In fact I’d probably have hit him twice. Vorlowe was a bigot and a fool, and a bad officer.”

Nicolaides managed a rueful smile. “It’s very good of you to say so, Count. I doubt it made much difference in the long run.”

“No, you’re wrong there. It did to Private Vassos, and it will make a difference to every minority soldier who follows him. Lessons _have_ been learned.”

Nicolaides looked thoughtful. “Vassos did much better on the Kanzian. When I retired he was working his way through the ranks the way he should have been doing all along.”

Ivan had heard of Commander Vorlowe. Not in a while, though, now he came to think about it. A few bits of gossip finally dropped into place. He’d probably never hear about him again. No loss. He wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.

Cordelia indicated the places at the table. “Come and sit down. It’s quite common for the Viceroy to have a working dinner and this might be his only chance to talk to you all. We find it very useful to sit and eat with our own armsmen and staff from time to time, and I’m sure Count Voralys will, too.”

Pym assisted the Countess to her chair before seating himself towards the middle of the table. Ivan sat opposite him, with Harper and Fox closest to Aral and Nicolaides and Karasavas closest to Cordelia. The other two of Aral’s men slotted in opposite each other next to Harper and Fox. Byerly Vorrutyer as the odd man out sat next to Ivan with a space opposite. Jankowski, who had been about to perform the task of seating his Countess, gave Pym a _look_. Cordelia just laughed at the rivalry.

“Once an armsman always an armsman. It’s just second nature, isn’t it, Pym?”

“Sitting facing the door seems to be ingrained as well,” Ivan pointed out. “If I didn’t know it already it would be obvious you’re ex-ImpSec, Pym. My cousin Miles has exactly the same habit, too.”

Karasavas, Pym, and the lieutenant, a man named Lavigne, who had all lined up to spot whoever came into the room, took it as quite natural behaviour. They hadn’t brought any lethal weapons to the table but it was obvious they all still had their stunners, just as Ivan did himself.

After Roic and Jankowski served the soup, Aral started talking to Harper and Fox about the Armsman’s oath. Everyone fell silent as he explained it.

“It’s a solemn undertaking, and by its very simplicity allows no room for dissimulation, doubt or misunderstanding. You swear to follow your lord’s commands until you die, or he does. That’s it. When the Count-my-father died, his armsmen were free to go their own ways if they so wished. Some of them had been clinging to their oaths by force of will and chose to retire at his death. Bothari, Esterhazy and some of the others took oath with me. Pym was one of the first to swear to me alone. Bothari died in my service, Esterhazy retired last year and now Rykov and Roic have joined me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my armsmen, and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for me. They have my protection and I have their loyalty, all on our name’s word. They may be seconded to my family, as Pym, Roic and Jankowski are to Miles, but that’s because I choose to allow it.”

Fox thought about what he’d said. “The conflict with Vorclarence and the Emperor led Armsman Walton to sacrifice himself. How do you see the armsman’s oath in relation to all our oaths to the Emperor, sir?”

Aral was quite clear. “A Count must first break his oath to his Emperor if he orders harm to the Emperor or the Emperor’s Voice. An oathbreaker can only expect his men to do the same. There is the famous example in our own family where an Emperor first broke his own oath of protection to his vassals. Count Piotr’s armsmen kept allegiance to _him,_ and followed him to a man. Armsman Walton knew his Count’s order to be an illegal one, chose the right course, yet still he could not live with what he had done. It destroyed him.” Aral paused to look at Ivan. “It behoves a Count not to put his men to such a test.”

Ivan nodded acknowledgement. “I agree completely, sir. I want my armsmen to be certain they want to serve with me. The five I’ve chosen so far have been given a month to decide. There are two more who are thinking about it. I’ll swear them in after the ImpSec security course, if everything goes well. I’ve asked Major Karasavas to arrange seven places on the course that starts in ten days’ time, but I’m still looking in the meantime.”

Aral nodded. “It sounds like a sensible plan. I don’t remember a time when a Count has had to replace his full score all at once. Back in Dorca’s day, maybe, after one of those bloody cavalry charges. Some of the current Counts don’t even employ a full score by choice. Take that pinchmark Vorfolse, for example. He’s a blot on the honour of the Vor, that one.”

Talk became more general for a while until Cordelia asked Ivan about his party. “Have you thought about the guest list? It won’t be your usual crowd.”

“I know, Aunt. I’m going to have to rely on Byerly here to give me a list of all the town clowns, sycophants and ne’er-do-wells. I’m sure he’s well-acquainted with all of ’em. I’ll have to think of a few decent people to leaven out the dross.”

“There’s some very well-connected dross out there, you know, Ivan,” By pointed out. “There’ll be at least two Count’s heirs, people like Theo Vormercier, and a list as long as your arm on the female side of things, once the Vor dragons get wind of it. They’re all just waiting to get their claws into the best catch of the season, now that my cousin Dono is off the market.”

Now there was an appalling thought. “Lucky for me I have my secretary to deal with all that nonsense,” he said, winking at Nicolaides. “He’ll get the names off you. All I’m planning on doing is turning up.”

 

After his morning workout Ivan left Nicolaides and Harper on party planning duty and set out with Fox and Karasavas as bodyguards. His first stop was to see Etienne Vorinnis. The tell-tale sign of improvement was the look on Katja Vorinnis’s face as she led him into the sitting room and went to stand beside her husband. She looked _happy_.

The major jumped to his feet to shake Ivan’s hand. “Thanks for coming, Ivan. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s great to see you looking so much better, Etienne. Are you up to discussing business?”

Katja bustled off to organise refreshments while the two of them settled down to talk.

“Has anyone contacted you about the awards ceremony?” Ivan asked. Etienne nodded. His expression turned to one of apprehension.

“Yes, I’m not looking forward to it, truth be told. Someone has been thinking it through, though. It’s in the ballroom and we’re all wearing dress greens, not parade red and blues. I couldn’t have managed that.”

Ivan agreed. “I know what you mean.” They both sat for a moment, remembering, before he went on.“Mine had a few holes in it afterwards, and then I had to resign my commission so I won’t even get to wear greens. It has to be my House uniform. You don’t have anything to worry about, though. I’ll collect you and Katja and bring you home afterwards. Gregor’s not stupid. He won’t make an ordeal out of it for you.”

Katja came back just then with a tray and Ivan jumped up to take it from her as she arranged a little side table for them. She was about to leave them to it when he stopped her.

“Katja, won’t you please stay? There’s something I want to show you.” He pulled a holocube out of his pocket and started a slideshow of pictures of Rotherhall.

“This is where I’d like you to take on the job I mentioned. It’s a really beautiful place, straight out of the Time of Isolation, and I’m aiming to turn it into a tourist town. I’m talking about Galactics; Betans to start with but everyone will be welcome. I desperately need someone with people skills to run the place, but more than that, I need someone to be my voice. Once you’ve got your strength and your confidence back, there’s always the possibility of you going on to being my voting deputy.”

“I don’t know, Ivan. I don’t think I can be what you need. Not right now, anyway.” Etienne looked at his wife with something like despair in his face. “I’d be scared to death to let you down.”

“Katja won’t let me down, and she won’t let _you_ fail. The job is for both of you. How you split it up is your business. I’ve seen what strength Katja has, don’t forget. She could probably handle the whole thing standing on her head and you can stroll around the market square looking like a Vor lord and take vids with the tourists. Come on down to Rotherhall and you’ll see what I mean.”

Ivan brought up some of By’s uniform designs. “I’m having all of my employees in Rotherhall wear versions of these. Not a trace of green in sight. You’re the grandson and nephew of a Count so you can wear your House uniform if you prefer, or course. Why don’t you spend a week at the hotel on me and see what the place has to offer?”

“I would love to go. I really need a break.” Katja looked at Ivan with eyes that were suspiciously bright. She held tightly to her husband’s hand. “We can pay for it, though.”

Vor pride had pulled her through this whole ordeal, but it was a bit of a nuisance now.

“Ah, but you see, I own the hotel now. I own the whole square, as a matter of fact, and I’m not going to be taking money off my friends when I’m trying to persuade them to do me a favour. Tourists are going to want to see a real life Vor, complete with two swords. The pair of you will be my prize exhibits.”

Katja laughed. “Count Voralys, you are such a…a…nice man. Thank you. We accept.”

“That’s sorted then. I’ll put you in touch with a lady called Jenny Beck. She works at the Town Hall and she’ll arrange everything for you. If you take me up on the offer you’ll be her employer.”

They had enough to think about for now. Ivan sat back to enjoy his coffee. Later, as she saw him out, Katja reached up to kiss Ivan on the cheek. She whispered so that her husband wouldn’t hear her.

“I’m never going to forget this. He can do it, you know. We won’t let you down. I’m so grateful to you. Thank you, Ivan. Thank you so much.”

He gave her a quick hug. “You’re going to love it there, I promise, and I _know_ Etienne can do it. After I had an…incident…when I was attached to the embassy on Earth it took me months to sort myself out, and I didn’t do anything as drastic as die, either.” He suppressed a shudder at the thought. He’d certainly been waiting to die, in that pump station. Best not go there. “All he needs is peace and quiet and good fresh air.”

One job done, two more on the list for today. It felt very strange to be going back to Ops HQ as a visitor and be screened through to a waiting room. Karasavas and Fox peeled off to take a break once he was safely inside. After a few minutes waiting, Ivan was met by a captain with the crossed axes and lightning flashes of the Imperial Engineers on his collar insignia. He was led off through the building to a side wing he’d never been to before. In fact, he hadn’t even realised it was there.

Colonel Otto had a firm handshake and a no-nonsense attitude that appealed to Ivan’s military mindset. He’d written papers for Vorbarr Sultana University that Ivan could only boggle at when he’d done some research on the man. He could read the words of his doctoral thesis on _thermoset ambient cure adhesive polymers applied under adverse conditions_ ; the meaning of them was completely beyond his capacity to understand. Thank god for boffins, was all he could say, although there was nothing of the mad scientist in the man looking at him across the desk. His undress greens were neat, his new colonel’s collar tabs still shiny and clean.

“Count Voralys. This is an unlooked-for honour. How may the Imperial Corps of Engineers assist you?”

They sat either side of the tidy desk.

“I’ve got two reasons for asking for this appointment, Colonel,” Ivan said. “Firstly, I had the pleasure of working very closely with a Company of your men recently. I wanted to say thank you for the excellent job they did. I was very sorry about the casualties at the water treatment plant in New Sheffield, and at the District Residence, too.”

The colonel nodded. “Fortunately, none of them were fatal or permanent injuries. I appreciate your coming here to say thank you, Count. It’s not a common occurrence to be thanked and I’ll be sure to pass it on to the men concerned. I’ve read the section of the report you sent to the Emperor, too.He was kind enough to forward it to us. I thought it a very fair and balanced commentary.”

Ivan smiled. “Thank you. I believe the Emperor was very pleased. Anyway, the second reason for my visit is that I wanted my thanks to take a more tangible form. I had an idea in mind.”

Otto looked suspicious. “I don’t encourage my men to drink, Count. It’s not compatible with the steady hand they so often need.”

It was a very natural assumption to make. Vor lords and drink went together like bees and honey.

Ivan laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing like that, Colonel. If I pay for the um…munitions involved, I thought they might like to do a spot of demolition for me. Blow up a ruddy great multi-story apartment block, or two, or three. The bigger the bang the better.”

“I _see_.” There was a gleam in the Colonel’s eyes. “There’s nothing the troops like better than blowing things up. There hasn’t been much call for it, lately. Our main commitments have been more in the construction line, on Sergyar. Tell me more.”

He was hooked. Big bangs and fireworks always appealed to Barrayarans. Ivan pulled out a data disk and slotted it into the colonel’s comconsole, with his permission. A three dimensional model of Prestwich’s tower block grids sprang to life.

“You see the problem. This place is the most awful ghetto I’ve ever seen. Even the Caravanserai at its worst had no more than four levels of misery. These are thirty storeys high.”

He advanced the presentation to highlight a building at the centre of a three by three square. “If I can demolish one in nine of these towers, the remaining eight will each have an open space right next door. We can install parks, or sports courts, or skate-float tracks. We’ll get direct sunlight to ground level, and hopefully do something about the wind tunnel effects as well.”

Colonel Otto considered. “It’s not outside the realms of possibility. You’d need some serious force screen shielding to protect the surrounding buildings. A gravitic imploder lance might do the trick. Hmmm.”

Ivan could almost see the wheels turning as the colonel considered options.

“Leave it with me, Count. I can’t say yes or no. I will send a team down there, though, to make a thorough assessment. It does have a certain appeal, I must say, but we’d need the Emperor’s permission, of course.”

“Excellent. That’s the best I could hope for at this stage. I’ll leave this data disk with you. It’s got the city plans, my contact details and the names of people down in the District. My secretary can arrange any help you should require.”

What sort of budget are you looking at?”

Ivan had seen the budgets for training exercises before. He had to take a hard swallow. “I’d like to say whatever it takes, but I can’t go into debt for this. Would a million marks be sufficient?”

The colonel’s eyebrows rose just a little. “I like a man who thinks big, Count. We could certainly work with that, all things being equal.”

Colonel Otto rose to see him out, but Ivan needed to know something else. “Oh, there’s one last question, Colonel. Do you by any chance have any contacts in the paint manufacture business? Someone who knows something about any colour other than battleship grey would be preferable."

Ivan called up Fox and Karasavas as he was escorted back to the front door. He’d done a good morning’s work. Time for a spot of lunch, and then, after that, it was time to call on Ekaterin and see what that weasel Vorrutyer was up to with her.

 

The residential district beside the university would be a lovely place to take a walking tour, Ivan decided as his groundcar pulled up outside Lord Auditor Vorthys’s house. Anyone coming all the way from Beta would want to see the capital as well as somewhere like Rotherhall, so he’d better be prepared to accommodate them. The tall buildings were alive with colour, with hanging baskets and window boxes and narrow garden beds all blazing with summer blooms. He’d certainly started to see his city with new eyes. It was wonderfully pretty here just now, but he knew it also sparkled with hundreds of coloured lights at winterfair. Maybe troika rides would be the way to go then. He’d have to think about that one.

Ekaterin answered the door herself when he rang the doorbell. She wore her simple grey skirt and bolero with the black edging, but there was nothing drab or sad about the look of happiness in her eyes. She smiled a welcome and offered her cheek for Ivan to kiss.

“How lovely to see you, Ivan! We were so worried when we saw the vidclip on the news. You need to take care of yourself.”

“Ekaterin.” Ivan gave her a quick hug. “Is Byerly Vorrutyer here yet?”

“Yes, he arrived about five minutes ago. Come on through to the garden. We were just going to have some lemonade.”

 _Lemonade? By Vorrutyer?_ Ivan snickered as he walked behind her down the hallway. This he had to see for himself.

There was a tall glass jug on the table, frosted with condensation in the warm afternoon sun. Dappled light turned the small courtyard into an oasis of colour, while the mingled smells from the herbs and flowers both soothed and calmed the senses. By rose to shake Ivan’s hand. He looked almost well at this time of day, elegant as always with no trace of his usual dissipation.

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually serious, Ivan, but I see that you were. Miles will be so pleased to know that you’re looking after his interests.”

Ekaterin had slipped back into the kitchen for an extra glass. Ivan folded his arms and stared hard at By.

“You’d better believe it. No funny business. You understand me?”

By threw up his hands in mock horror. “You have me quaking in my boots! I did promise.”

“You and your weasel promises. Anyway, I’m going to sit right here while you drink a glass of lemonade. People I know would pay money to watch a sight like that.”

Ivan and By both stood while Ekaterin returned to her seat, then they settled down to sip at the cool drink and help themselves to the proffered apricot and raspberry tartlets. Ivan pulled out By’s designs to show Ekaterin.

“They’re lovely, By. You’ve got an excellent eye.”

By actually flushed. Ivan could see spots of colour shading his cheeks. “It’s mostly the design program. All I have to do is slot in the colour schemes.”

Ekaterin disagreed. “I know those design programs, By. They’re only as good as the data input allows them to be. You really have got talent and I’m delighted to see these for more reasons than one. It’s actually the motive for me inviting you today.” She paused for a moment to sip her lemonade. “Miles wanted me to talk to you By, about a little proposition that we have, and we both thought that Ivan would be the ideal person to get the scheme off the ground.”

Ivan nearly fell off his chair. Miles was mixed up in this? Miles had a _scheme_? Oh, shit. He really, really wished he hadn’t come. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to end well. It never did whenever his devious cousin poked his finger into a pie. God help them all.

 

 


	15. Byerly Vorrutyer never saw it coming.

 

 

By and Ivan both stared at Ekaterin in disbelief. She smiled back at them, her eyes glinting with merriment and just a hint of mischief. Ivan clutched at his glass, wishing it was anything other than lemonade.

“You should know this has all been cleared with General Allegre, and he knows that I’m talking to you about this. Miles—well, Miles didn’t think you’d believe some of this was my idea unless I was the one doing the talking.” Ekaterin stopped smiling. Her expression became clouded with sympathy and concern.

“You’ve been getting very tired, haven’t you, By? After the Dono affair and all that went with it?”

By looked at Ekaterin, and then at Ivan, who could only shrug his shoulders and roll his eyes. He had absolutely no idea what was going on here. Ekaterin didn’t wait for an answer before she continued. “When you saved Raine and me at Shoko’s, you were as shaken as we were. You hid it very well, but I could tell.”

By tried to protest. “Anyone would have been shocked at that! You don’t expect an assassin in the Great Square, not unless you’re the Emperor, of course.”

“May I ask you a very personal question?”

By shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This obviously wasn’t what he’d been expecting, either, Ivan guessed. He nodded assent.

“How old are you now?” She pinned him with her gaze.

“I’m thirty-six standard. I’ll be thirty seven before Winterfair.”

“I thought it would be something like that. Your peers are all settling down, aren’t they?”

“Either that or they're dead.” By tried and failed to sound insouciant. The lines around his eyes deepened fractionally. Ekaterin was right, Ivan realised. By _was_ tired, and he was worried.

By asked her a question back. “Where is this all leading, Madame Vorsoisson? It’s obviously not just idle curiosity.”

“Oh, please. You must call me Ekaterin. I’ve been calling you By all along. I even think about you that way.”

By began to look more annoyed than worried.“What do you want, Ekaterin, or what is it that Miles wants?”

“Miles _and_ Guy Allegre. The lack of timely intelligence about Vorclarence really highlighted a gap in ImpSec’s coverage. They want you to move on.”

“Move on? Does that mean move out? There was no way I could get close to that kind of information. I’m hardly on the guest list of the pearls and polo set, am I? Miles should have had the guts to tell me this himself, not leave it to you.”

He sounded not just angry, but bitter as well. Ekaterin reached out to cover his hand with hers. “No, no! It’s not like that at all. There’s another assignment for you, if you’ll agree to take it. We’re going to go into business together.”

Ivan couldn’t believe what he’d heard. By looked like he’d tried to swallow a brick. “We…we _what_?”

“Doublevee Aesthetica. House and garden design. _Very_ exclusive clientele.” Ekaterin grinned at Ivan. “Our first client is going to be no less than a Count. We’re going to get you on the guest list of every member of that pearls and polo set, By, _especially_ the pearls.”

The look of absolute crogglement on By’s face would have had Ivan laughing if he wasn’t so totally gobsmacked himself.

“I’ll go and find a bottle of wine, shall I?” Ekaterin slipped off into the kitchen again. She looked very well pleased with herself. Ivan began to suspect Miles hadn’t come up with this scheme at all. He had a very nasty suspicion that Ekaterin had somehow managed to talk to his _mother_. She was By’s blind drop, after all. She would have known he was getting tired as well.

Ekaterin didn’t say anything more until they all had a glass of a good Vorkosigan red in their hands. By gulped down half of his before he stopped to look at what he was drinking. He hid his expression, staring down and swirling the wine around his glass.

“Explain this to me. _Please_.” His voice was very flat, almost emotionless. “Where did you come up with Doublevee aesthetica, for a start?”

“Vorkosigan and Vorrutyer. Equal partners. Miles supplies the capital and you do most of the work. I’ll be doing garden design, and maybe consulting with you on big projects, but I’m the camouflage, mostly. Everyone will think that Miles has used his influence to get me started. And also, to be brutally honest, people will invite you to things in the hope you’ll bring your business partner along. I’ve already seen the people trying to get to Miles through me.”

“Fair enough. What, exactly, is the _actual_ work?” By was keeping himself well under control. He did re-fill his glass, though, Ivan noticed. Old habits died hard. Ekaterin spread her hands in an expansive gesture.

“It’s quite simple, really, the same as you’ve been doing all along. General Allegre needs more surveillance on the thirty-five to fifty-five age group, people who have finished their twenty years of Imperial Service and are turning to…what would you call it?…other pursuits. They’re getting married, settling down and _plotting_. So, what do you do when you get married and settle down? You find somewhere to live, redecorate and do the garden up. Or, if you like, think about the Vorwives who’ve been dutiful mothers. When they’ve packed the last of the brood off to the Military Academy and have time on their hands, what better than to redecorate, and gossip with the biggest gossip in town while they’re doing it? There are endless possibilities for you, and you’ve really got the talent to do it. We’ll start with Ivan. Voralys House will be our showpiece.”

They both turned to look at him.

“What I’d like to know,” Ivan asked, feeling quite miffed, “is when did my mother get involved in all of this?”

Ekaterin looked guilty for a moment or two. “Miles did ask her opinion, after we’d come up with the idea. She thought it an excellent use of resources, especially as she plans to step back from her full-time role, although she’ll still be a major source of information from the older age bracket, of course. She’s not averse to dropping a hint or two to send some business our way. She often gets asked advice on aesthetics, or so she told me.”

“I see. Who did you have in mind to handle the business side of things?”

“That’s the best bit,” Ekaterin beamed with delight. “Master Tsipis is going to oversee the set up for us. He thinks of _everything_.”

“Well,” Ivan stretched out his legs and finished his drink. “If the two of you are going to take over my house and my garden, and you’ve already started on my corporate image, By, you can jolly well make yourselves useful. I’ve got a ballroom I need decorated for my party. I’ll let Nicolaides know.”

“That’s brilliant!” Ekaterin looked at By. “We can have a trial run while you think about it. It won’t be an abrupt change, you know, By. You’ll just sort of segue into it. People will just think you’ve matured at last.”

By took a very deep breath, and let it out slowly. His voice, soft to start with, gained volume as he spoke, until he almost shouted. “Will they? That’s very good of them. Now that General Allegre, and the Lord Auditor, and Lady Vorpatril, and no doubt Simon Illyan and the Emperor and the garbage collector and your good self, Madame Vorsoisson, have all finished arranging my life for me, you’re going to let me _think_ about it?” His hands were shaking.

“Don’t be an ass, Vorrutyer,” Ivan told him. “It’s a damn good idea. You can lay off those drugs, for a start. They were going to kill you, one of these days, and you know it. You’re not changing anything, apart from being seen to work for a living. You’ll be a lot more comfortable, and I honestly think you’ll enjoy it. I also think it’s remarkable that so many people have bothered to consider your welfare.”

Some sort of internal war raged behind By’s eyes. He opened his mouth twice and thought better of it. At last he sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, Ekaterin. I’m not used to, as Ivan so kindly put it, having people consider my welfare.”

What a different life By had had, growing up, to Ivan’s own. Then, for the last, what, fifteen years, he'd lived by his wits on the fringes of society. It was very hard to appreciate how he was feeling now. How to explain things to him?

“Yeah, well. There’s a happy medium where people considering your welfare are concerned, isn’t there? Sometimes you can just about choke on it. I had to get posted half way across the nexus to get the people considering my welfare to back off, a few years ago.” Ivan thought about his posting to old Earth. He’d been so glad to get there, but in the end he could have done with a few _more_ people considering his welfare. “Interfering is more like it, sometimes. But this isn’t interfering, By. It’s about doing a job Gregor needs you to do.”

He still didn’t look too convinced, and Ekaterin was starting to look worried. Ivan tried again.

“By, I know you’re not used to it, but you’ve heard all about team Koudelka, haven’t you? Believe me, they’ve got nothing on team Vorkosigan, and team Vorkosigan just grew by one. They turn my life upside down any chance they get, but it’s kind of nice, too, to have family. It’ll come out right, I promise you.”

By finished his drink. He had to get this sorted in his own head, Ivan realised. He stood up to leave. “We need to leave Ekaterin to get on, By, if she has to do her study _and_ this new business.”

After a few moments thought By joined him, still looking like he’d been poleaxed. Ivan clapped him on the back. “Buck up! I think the pair of us ought to have a few words with Miles when he gets back, but in the meantime, you have some party decoration planning to do.”

Ivan turned to Ekaterin. Did Miles know exactly what sort of woman he’d managed to find for his Lady Vorkosigan? _Hell, yes_. He surely did. “Thank you, Ekaterin. It’s been a very interesting afternoon.”

Back to her normal composed self Ekaterin just smiled serenely as she showed them out. They stood on the doorstep, looking at each other. The odd groundcar drove past with a whuff of fans and the sun still shone down the tree-lined streets. Nothing had changed out here, away from the pretty green and flower-scented back garden.

“Bar?” Ivan asked.

“Bar.” Byerly agreed.

 

Nicolaides had a list of messages and invitations for him as long as his arm when Ivan finally got back to Voralys House. He flicked through most of them, but stopped at a couple from New Sheffield.

“Damn. Bad news.”

“You can’t win them all, sir.” Nicolaides knew exactly what had annoyed him. One of the armsmen hopefuls, Strauss, had decided to decline the post. At least the other one, Driscoll, had accepted.

Ivan nodded. “That leaves me with six, I suppose. You’d better arrange for Driscoll, Devaux, Kosa and Sarmiento to come up to Vorbarr Sultana tomorrow. I’d like them to meet Count Vorkosigan if at all possible. We’ll need all hands on deck for the party, anyway. It looks like we might be here for some time, the way things are going. Why don’t you arrange for your wife to come up as well, Philip? There’ll be room in the airflyer, and I’d like to meet her.”

“I think she would like that, sir. Thank you very much. I wondered if you might have another post for Strauss? As he said, he very much liked the thought of working for you but his wife wanted to be settled in one place after following him round the nexus for twenty years.”

“There’s a thought. He’d like Rotherhall, and I’m sure his wife would, too. Get him down there when Major Vorinnis visits. If the two of them hit it off he can either be deputy or take over the Municipal Guard. We don’t want to lose men of his calibre if we can avoid it.”

Nicolaides made a note and went on with his report. “Armsman Pym has been sent back over from Vorkosigan House for another few days, until the security course is finished, and Madame Vorsossion called not long before you returned, sir. I think she has some ideas for the ballroom.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot to mention it. She and Byerly Vorrutyer should be in and out quite frequently. Have Security add them to the welcome list. I’m glad Pym’s back. I always feel safer when he’s around. Anything else I should know about?”

“I’ve made an appointment for you tomorrow morning with a lady by the name of Ma Belka. Apparently she’s the niece of Ma Kosti.”

“ _Hot_ damn! Now that’s _good_ news. Let’s hope she’s even half as good as Ma Kosti. Make sure she gets a warm welcome. I’ll take her on a tour of the kitchen myself.”

“I thought you might be pleased, sir.”

“Hopefully, everybody in the house will be pleased. That reminds me. I’ll be in for dinner tonight. I forgot to leave any instructions before I left this morning. Any idea what we’re having?”

Nicolaides pulled a face. “I do believe Pym requested tripe with white sauce tonight, sir. It must be one of his favourites. Can’t say I care very much for it, myself.”

Ivan sat and ate his way through a main course as bland as the face of the armsman seated three places away from him. There was one small mercy. Pym might have requested it, but there was no way their agency cook was going to stoop to lumps in the white sauce. He’d eaten rat bars before; lived on them for a week, back at the Academy when they were on manoeuvres. Nothing could be worse than that. He could do this. It wasn’t going to poison him. If he kept telling himself that, maybe he _could_ get through this, with a smile on his face and making pleasant conversation to boot. Pym was going to pay, though. He’d think of something.

He might have known what he’d get for dessert. Ma Kosti and MPVK Enterprises had gone commercial after the Imperial wedding. At least maple mead ambrosia tasted superb, as long as he didn’t think too closely about where it had come from.

Before bed that night he checked his private messages again, re-reading all the ones Raine had sent so far on her journey to Beta Colony. He really missed her. He’d been so busy he didn’t have time to think about her every single minute, but that didn’t mean he missed her any less. He missed Marie, too. She always managed to cheer him up with her enthusiasm and her unconditional love. At least she would be back soon. He had no idea when he’d see Raine again. Ivan contemplated a bottle of red and oblivion, but not even that really appealed. When had that happened to him? He’d been happy enough to drink when Raine first left. Being a count wasn’t turning out to be much fun, but he’d known that when Gregor first suggested it to him. Ha! _Suggested_. Like anyone had listened to a word he’d said, and look what had happened ever since.

Miles hadn’t got back to him. He was probably out of the loop again, just _that idiot Ivan_ , only any use when his runty cousin needed a bit of extra muscle. Surely he’d come up with something? Maybe Gregor would know, but he wasn’t going to call him at this time of night to find out. General Allegre would just bite his head off. Uncle Aral? Ivan blenched at the very thought calling Aral Vorkosigan.

All he could do was mooch around his private quarters. Perhaps busy was good, after all. There was always something else on his list, even at two hours to midnight. Ivan powered up his comconsole again. Time to research winter-proof transportable accommodation. He was going to need a lot of it, if Colonel Otto came through.

 

Ivan spent extra time on the comconsole with Marie the next morning, after he came back from his run. She looked so fit and healthy, now. He could swear she’d grown since she’d gone down to Vandeville, and she’d certainly filled out. Her pale face had a light tan and she had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Every other sentence was filled with Papi Simon. They’d started taking pictures, apparently.

“So, my Ivan, I saw this _beautiful_ flower. Papi Simon said it was a hi…hi—”

“Hibiscus? Pretty pink with a long tube down the middle?”

“Yes, that’s right, and then we took some pictures, and then Papi Simon put them in his comconsole and then he made all these little flowers, and then one giant one, and then Papi Simon showed me how to change the colours and then we printed some and then just the—the outsides so I could colour one myself!”

She managed all of that in one breath. Her enthusiasm was so infectious.

“ _And then_ you had the best fun, I bet.”

She nodded her head so violently her dark hair, tied up in two pigtails, flew around her head. “Here, look, my Ivan.”

She held up a pretty pink flower, carefully shaded from palest pink on the edges of the petals to dark pink in the centre. There were only a few tiny spots where she’d gone over the edge of the outline.

“That’s so well done, Marie. I love the way you’ve coloured that. Ask Papi Simon to look after it for you, then we can put it on the wall here when you come home.”

“I will. Papi Simon says we might look for a yellow flower today.”

“And what about Mami? What has she been doing?” There’d been no mention of his mother in all of Marie’s happy chatter. She put her hand over her mouth, but her eyes twinkled.

“Mami fell asleep on the sand, because she was very, very tired and then the wind blew her hat off.” Her eyes widened in awe and she looked around before she moved closer to the mic to whisper. “Her nose went all pink, my Ivan. She’s not very happy this morning. Papi Simon is going to take me to buy an ice cream before we look for the yellow flower and Mami is going to the salon.”

Ivan was _not_ going to ask why his mother was very very tired. He most certainly didn’t want to know the answer to that one, and Marie shouldn't know anything about it, anyway. After what he’d heard the other day he was pretty sure he already knew, anyway.

“We’ll keep her secret and not tell anyone. You have a lovely day with Papi Simon. Don’t eat too much ice cream, will you?”

She giggled. “Papi Simon says I’m going to turn into an ice cream. He’s funny.”

That wasn’t the way Ivan would describe Simon Illyan, but he wasn’t going to disagree with her.

“You say hello to him from me.” He blew her a kiss. Bye bye, sweetheart.”

There was nothing like a dose of Marie to stop him feeling sorry for himself. Ivan couldn’t stop grinning as he headed downstairs to get ready for his interview with Ma Belka.

 

 


	16. No more tripe

 

 

Ma Belka was nothing like Ivan expected. He’d imagined another short, motherly, bustling woman. She was tall, blonde, slim and no more than thirty-five years old, if that. Nicolaides showed her to Ivan’s study and turned to leave, but Ivan called him back.

“Will you stay, please, Philip? I may need you.”

He indicated a seat for her. “Please sit down. So you’re Ma Kosti’s niece, Ma Belka? I wouldn’t have picked it.”

“Yes, my lord. My mother is her younger sister.”

It was stupid of him to feel uneasy. Ma Kosti wouldn’t have sent her to him if she didn’t think she could do the job. “Would you like to tell me about yourself? How long have you been a cook?”

“I haven’t worked as a head cook before, my lord, not proper like, apart from helping my auntie. I’ve always been under-cook before. I know how to go on, though.”

This wasn’t shaping up at all the way he’d hoped. “You think you can manage all the ordering, and keeping your staff in order, and the long hours?”

Ma Belka picked up on the dubious note in his voice. She sighed. “Auntie said I should tell you the whole story, if that’s all right with you, my lord.”

Ivan glanced at Nicolaides, and back to Ma Belka. _The whole story?_ He didn’t need too many more complications in his life right now. He’d got the woman here now, though. He couldn’t just dismiss her offhand. “Please go ahead.”

“I’m married and I have three children. The youngest is six and the oldest thirteen. My husband will be looking after the children while I work. He’s at home now. He—he was injured. He was a yeoman stores tech at the military shuttleport at Tanery Base and a plasma arc cartridge came in faulty. There was an explosion.” She stopped, closing her eyes, briefly. “He’s spent nearly a year at ImpMil. He won’t be working again and the pension isn’t enough, not with rent the way it is in Vorbarr Sultana.”

Ivan knew about the explosion at Tanery Base. It had kept him working long hours not that long after he’d been transferred to Ops after coming back from Earth. His work on that debacle was part of the reason he’d been promoted to captain. He knew what the real story was though, and it wasn’t a malfunctioning plasma arc. That must have been the bullshit they’d fed to the relatives. At the time he’d cursed the sabotage attempt that had kept his nose to the grindstone, but he hadn’t really considered the human cost.He should have; here it was standing right in front of him. Belka should have received proper care, though. Unfortunately it was a common enough experience for the families involved. Injured veterans needed to stay close to ImpMil to receive ongoing specialist treatment, but with rents in the capital so high it didn’t leave much for anything else.

“Is he able to do any sort of work? Looking after the children won’t be too much for him? I don’t want to put too much strain on you.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “That’s a very nice way of saying you want to be sure I won’t let you down. I can’t be completely sure of that, of course, but he’s quite capable. He just doesn’t want to go out in public much. They’ve mended his bones and his nerves are working, after a fashion. That took a long time, but it’s not the real problem. He was burned, and people stare.”

“Surely there’s plastic surgery? Veterans are entitled to that.” Ivan thought of Miles’s Elli Quinn. She’d had her face completely rebuilt on Beta.

Ma Belka’s lip trembled. “There is, and he’s entitled. The waiting list is nearly two years. We have to live, in the meanwhile.”

What a terrible stress to put on a young family. It was totally wrong.

“Two years? That’s…that’s scandalous! He can’t stay hidden away for two years!”

“There’s plenty more like him, my lord. The military surgeons, once they’ve learned their craft, leave after their twenty. They can earn so much more out of the service. It needs experienced men to do the plastic work and there’s not enough of them.”

Nicolaides was nodding resigned agreement behind Ma Belka’s back. It sounded like the same old story. Not enough personnel and not enough budget. Ivan did some rapid thinking.

“What do you say to a month’s trial? I’m not expecting miracles. I’m having a large party in three days’ time but we’ll keep the agency staff for that if it’s too much too soon. If you’ve worked for Ma Kosti you should know how a big house runs. There’s the regular staff and family to be fed every day, and then the entertaining, which can vary from family dinners to three hundred people at a major function. We would hire extra staff for those, of course.”

She nodded. “Hard work doesn’t worry me, my lord.” She hesitated for a moment. “Did you plan on this being a _paid_ trial, only I can’t afford—”

“Good God, of course I’ll be paying you! Nicolaides will make all the arrangements. Let’s take you down to look at the kitchens. There were six people working here before the changes, so you’ll have five to help you. If you train two of them to do the breakfast shift you wouldn’t have to start too early. How far away is your accommodation?”

She gave him an anxious look. “It’s twenty minutes on the monorail, but I can cope with that. It won’t be a problem, my lord.”

It was another ten minutes walk to Voralys House from the nearest monorail station at the Great Square. She was going to spend at least an hour a day commuting, and at all hours, too. Vorbarr Sultana was mostly safe, but it only took one drunken lout to ruin things. Ivan didn’t like that idea one bit. He could have one of the armsmen walk her to the monorail, but that wasn’t much of a solution. The woman was never going to see her family, and her kids were never going to see her.

“We’ll see how the trial works out, but if we’re both happy accommodation usually goes with the job. We can stretch it to a set of rooms. I know there’s a housekeeper’s suite, so there’s no reason why there can’t be a cook’s suite as well. You’ll be just as valuable as a housekeeper, if not more so. It might mean the children changing schools, though.”

They’d reached the kitchen by now. Ma Belka looked around somewhat blindly, blinking her eyes rapidly. Ivan wandered over to the stool by the comconsole at the ordering area to give her a bit of space.

“You take your time and look around. I’ll just wait here for a while.”

She disappeared into one of the pantry cupboards, to have a cry, he suspected. Troubled, Ivan looked at Nicolaides.

“I hope to hell she can cook. She shouldn’t have to be the sole breadwinner, should she? We’ll see what the husband is like. If he’s at all capable there must be something we can find for him to do that doesn’t involve going out of the house.”

Nicolaides had been an officer in stores and procurement. He knew what a stores yeoman would be capable of. “Their kids will be gone between nine and four, at least, when school is in. He could probably hold down the secretarial duties here while I’m travelling with you, and do all the ordering and suchlike when you’re in residence. There’s always work. He could probably do four hours a day to start with. You could let a thirteen year old kid earn some pocket money, too. He or she could help in the gardens, or wash the ground cars.”

“And I might just have a word to my cousin. Perhaps a Lord Auditor can put the wind up ImpMil to pull their collective finger out. Failing that, I could bring it up at a Council session.”

What was he _saying_? He quailed at the thought of standing up in front of a full session of the Council of Counts, but what was going on at ImpMil was just _wrong._ They should bring in civilian doctors if they couldn’t manage their lists in a timely manner. He really had no idea how to even start sorting it out. Miles wasn’t here to ask and he wasn’t going to go running to Uncle Aral every five minutes. There was one person he could maybe talk to, though, if he was in town. He’d have to get Nicolaides to check.

Ma Belka reappeared, interrupting his chain of thought. “It’s a lovely kitchen, my lord. When would you like me to start the trial?”

He did some rapid adding up in his head. “I have five extra people flying in today, so that will make twelve for dinner tonight. Want to give it a go? Anything except tripe will be fine. We usually eat at 1900 hours. There are no armsmen rostered overnight yet and ImpSec look after themselves. If that’s inconvenient you could start tomorrow.”

“Today will be fine, my lord, if there’s ingredients already ordered in. Are there any kitchen maids?”

Nicolaides knew the answer to that one. “We have two agency maids and the cook due in any minute. The cook can have the day off, once he tells you what the menu was going to be. Why don’t I stay here and talk to him and we can let Count Voralys get on?”

Ivan gave him a nod. “Nicolaides will arrange for you to receive your first week’s pay in advance. It’s not something I’d normally do, but it’s not cheap getting the monorail every day. We can make an exception this once. Thanks, Ma Belka. I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

Ma Belka teared up again, but she kept her voice under control and bobbed Ivan a curtsey. “Thank you ever so much, my lord Count, for the opportunity. Auntie said you’d be a good man to work for. I can see she’s right.”

It was still disconcerting, having someone curtseying to him. He left them to wait for the kitchen maids and reached the hall just as Fox showed Byerly Vorrutyer in through the front door. Ivan glanced at his chrono, but kept his mouth shut. By might just head straight back out if he made any cracks about him getting up before noon.

“Morning, By. Come to see the ballroom?”

By was strangely diffident. It was _most_ unlike him. He shook the hand Ivan offered. “I wasn’t sure if I should go to the staff entrance. Just tell me what you’d prefer.”

Ivan stared at him, exasperated. “That’s the second time in two days you’ve been an ass, Vorrutyer. D’you think I’d make Ekaterin use the staff entrance? If this thing is going to work you have to make the clients think _you’re_ doing _them_ the favour. Be your usual charming self. No Vorrutyer uses a staff entrance. Come on, the ballroom’s this way.”

By followed him to the south wing and the spacious, double level ballroom with its lofty ceiling and hanging crystal chandeliers. Ivan indicated the space.

“So, we’ve got three days. I realise it’s pretty short notice, but it’s not like the Emperor’s invited. What can you come up with?”

By had a hand viewer with him. He loaded up a picture to show Ivan. “Ekaterin and I had a quick chat. We agreed on white and silver, with dark blue highlights, to tie in with your corporate look. This is her sketch and I think she’s got it spot on. If you’re happy I need to take measurements and hit the suppliers today.”

Ivan looked at the sketched design of sweeping silver net drapes, with matching silver swags held up with dark blue rosettes across the skirts of white tablecloths on the buffet tables. There were minimalist floral arrangements, all in white with dark blue ribbons trailing elegantly from their crystal vases. If they could pull it off it would look fabulous.

“How do you feel about all this, By?” Ivan asked. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

By shrugged and made a rueful face. “Not much. It’s not a pleasant feeling, getting told that you’re too old for the job. Ekaterin is right though, and if she could see it on such short acquaintance no doubt General Allegre could see it and he wouldn’t have been nearly as diplomatic about it all as she was. Nothing ventured nothing gained.” He flourished a laser measuring device and wiggled an eyebrow. “You didn’t exactly mention budget. Can I use my own initiative?”

That was more like the old By. “No, you damn well can’t. Modest, By. Tasteful but _modest_. That’s the way to go.”

By sighed and flounced off to start measuring. “Cheapskate! Genius and modest don’t fit together, I hope you realise.”

Ivan just laughed. “Head for the kitchen if you need coffee. Someone will show you where it is. There should be some spare bodies around tomorrow to help decorate, too. Major Karasavas can probably help you out if you think you need to install any surveillance. Just make sure you let me know what and where it is.Send the bills to Nicolaides, or he can arrange a credit chit for you, if you prefer. Direct expenses only, mind you.” He left By to it.

Nicolaides hadn’t reappeared from the kitchen so Ivan made his own appointment call and headed out a little later with Karasavas and Fox in tow to walk the short distance to Vorhalas House.

He was shown into the Count’s study with very little delay. The old man looked very much the same as always as he rose to shake hands. It was actually good to see him again.

“Voralys. Welcome! This is a pleasant surprise. That was a bad business down in Prestwich. It’s probably made you think about nominating an heir.”

No, it hadn’t. Ivan hadn’t given an heir a thought. He could actually make a choice now. Previously it would have been distant Vortaines who fought over his legacy. There was nobody really. Miles couldn’t do it. One of his even more distant Vorpatril relations, perhaps? He didn’t like the thought of that. One of his other cousins on his mamère’s side? Perhaps. No doubt they’d be falling over themselves to line up. It was a pretty depressing prospect. The only heir he wanted was one with Raine as the mother. _If_ he ever got to see her again.

“Actually no, I hadn’t considered it, Count, but obviously I should have. I’ll have to give it a lot of thought.”

Count Voralys looked at him. “Yes, you probably will, at that. So what can I do for you today?”

Ivan took the glass of wine poured for him and sat in the chair the armsman had arranged. “Sir, did you know that there’s a two year wait for plastic surgery at ImpMil? It was brought to my attention today and I have no idea how to go about trying to fix it.”

Count Vorhalas sat back and sipped his wine. He shook his head slightly, as if clearing his thoughts. “You’ll have to forgive me, Ivan. You want to fix ImpMil. I’m still finding it hard to readjust my preconceived opinions. I’ve become aware of your true character too recently to be accustomed to it.”

He deserved the Count’s incredulity. He hadn’t done much in the past to give him a reputation of caring about _anything,_ apart from having a good time. “You still think of me as a lightweight, sir?”

“No, not quite that. No really useless ornament of society would rise to the rank of captain in the Imperial forces. Let’s just say it’s good to see you pulling your _true_ weight, at last. You’ve given yourself an impossible job. ImpMil swallows a vast proportion of the military budget every year, as you may well know. There would be too hard a fight to increase funding, especially after the expenses of the wedding, but what you can do is make enquiries through the Surgeon General’s office about allocations. There haven’t been any major conflicts for quite some time. I don’t see why they can’t be working through their backlogs faster than that.”

“My source says it’s a lack of specialist trained doctors, as well.”

“Hmm. Any adequately trained hack can put bones back together, of course. It’s a bit different when you’re talking about people’s faces and the use of their hands.”

“Valeraine Vorfolse has gone to Beta to have some scars removed. None of those poor sods can just hop on a jump ship and have it done.” Ivan hadn’t thought Raine’s trip anything out of the ordinary, but it was, of course. Very few people could afford to do anything like that.

“It would be so much cheaper to have a surgeon hop on a jump ship the other way, now, wouldn’t it?”

Ivan stared at Count Vorhalas like he’d suddenly grown two heads. “It couldn’t be as easy as that, could it? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Hold your horses, Ivan.” Vorhalas threw up a hand in a _stop_ gesture. “One, you have to find a surgeon of the correct talent and experience who’d be willing to come, two, you’d never get the top brass at ImpMil to agree to it and three, I’m not so sure your average Barrayaran would actually trust a Betan. They’d be scared they’d come out as a herm, or something stupid like that. You know the reputation Betans have.”

“True, true and true, but all of that can be worked on. I bet my Aunt Cordelia could find someone. He or she could do some teaching at one of her institutes. Run a course for the army surgeons, even. They’d need case studies to work on now, wouldn’t they? That should get the line moving. ImpMil won’t want to be seen as backward.”

Another good idea smacked him between the eyes. “If Aunt Cordelia and Vorkosigan District could afford to fund the Vaagen institute, there’s no good reason why Voralys District couldn’t afford the same sort of thing. I might even call it the Fenerty Foundation. That would be a proper legacy for him.”

“Ivan.”

Count Vorhalas had wry amusement written in his face. Ivan was brought back to ground with a bang.

“Sorry, Count. I got a bit carried away there.”

“Just a tad, my boy. Try walking first, before you run. It’s always a good idea. Send a comital privilege request for an explanation of the waiting list to the Surgeon General and don’t take any of his flannel. _Request_ an answer within fifteen days. If your request is not complied with you can raise the matter in the Council then. You’ve surely got a District attorney who can advise you on all of this?”

“That’s another one for my list, sir. Corruption ran very deep. I’m starting from scratch with most positions.”

“I’ve heard that you’re making great efforts. It’s the talk of the town. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. I’m willing to assist where I can, for one. Henri Vorvolk might well be another shoulder you can lean on. He’s much closer to you in age than the rest of us fossilised old ruins. Of course, there’s Falco, too, and always your uncle. He and I can never be friends, but his loyalty to the Imperium cannot be doubted. Your cousin is far too much of a loose cannon for my taste. He’s never heard of walking before you can run, has he? Don’t let him lead you by the nose. He’ll try to do that.”

Ivan acknowledged the justice of that remark. “We’ve already had some discussion on the subject. I don’t plan on joining any faction on the Council until I feel very much more comfortable with my role. I only plan to vote in the best interests of my District and the Imperium.”

Count Vorhalas tipped his glass in an ironic toast. “A very commendable sentiment, Voralys. It remains to be seen whether or not experience blunts your idealism. We all make compromises.” His eyes drifted out of focus, remembering. “Perhaps not all of us. How different would Barrayar have been?” He sighed.

Ivan shifted uncomfortably on his seat. The pain in the Count’s face was something he couldn’t help him with. Count Vorhalas pulled himself together at last.

“Pardon an old man. We live in different times.”

It was pleasant to relax after that and have a sensible conversation. He couldn’t really call it _gossiping_ , but Count Vorhalas passed on a couple of anecdotes about his father he hadn’t heard before, probably because his Uncle Aral was off planet at the time and no one would have dreamed of mentioning them to Lady Alys, or she to _him_ , if she _had_ managed to find out about them. It sounded like he was very much more a chip off the old block than he’d realised. He’d never look at Lady Mary Vorville in the same way again, _or_ her twin sister Countess Vorpinski. And to think Lady Mary and his mother were still the best of friends…

He declined a cordial invitation to lunch. He really needed to head back to Voralys House and make sure By had left the roof on and not bankrupted him. He wanted to have a little peek into the kitchen as well, to make sure everything was fine there. And who knew. His cousin the Lord Auditor might just have left him a message. Pigs might fly, but he could always hope.

 

  


	17. Spiced peach tarts and Gold Stars

 

 

By the time Ivan reached home again the group from New Sheffield had arrived. Pym had sorted them out with their accommodation and given them a quick orientation to the house. Nicolaides brought his wife over to introduce her.

“Count Voralys, may I present my wife, Helen?”

Ivan shook her hand before she had a chance to curtsey. “Very pleased to meet you, Madame Nicolaides. I hope you enjoy your stay in Vorbarr Sultana. Is your accommodation satisfactory?”

She was a short, dark and vivacious woman with curly hair and a bright smile. She looked considerably younger than her husband, Ivan thought. "Everything is lovely, my lord Count. Thank you for inviting me. I really appreciate it. It’s almost like a honeymoon.”

“Oh, you haven’t been married very long, then?”

“Well, nearly a year, sir, but it was a very quiet wedding and we didn’t go anywhere afterwards. I’ve never been to Vorbarr Sultana.”

There was a story here, too, but it was none of his business unless Philip and Helen chose to tell him.

“There’s lots to see and do. Philip should have some free time next week after the party as I’ll be otherwise engaged. He’ll be able to take you around to the best sights. You have to see Vorhartung Castle and the Star Bridge at the very least.”

Nicolaides pricked up his ears at the news that Ivan was going to be busy. “Something I should know about, sir?”

Ivan grinned. “It’s rather more like something _I_ should know about. We can discuss it later. Have you checked out how the kitchen’s going?”

“Better than that, sir, we had lunch. Don’t let her get away, is all I can say.” He kissed his fingers. “Delicious!”

“I hope there’s some left for me, and for Fox and Karasavas, too, of course.”

“I’ll go and let her know you’re back, Where would you like to eat? In the library?”

“Yes, that’s better than the dining room when it’s just me, or is By Vorrutyer still here? He might like to join me.”

“No, sir. Vorrutyer is cruising the fabric warehouses, I do believe. There’ve been a few deliveries already. Pym has been directing everything to the ballroom.”

“In that case I’ll eat in the library and anything will do. Ma Belka doesn’t have to go to any special trouble.”

Pym came in with lunch on a serving trolley. He would never do anything as crass as wink, but the flourish with which he laid the table and presented the bowl of chicken salad for Ivan to serve himself spoke volumes. Ivan took one look. _Ma Kosti had shared her recipe_. It was all there: the delicious smell of the roast chicken, the traffic light colours of the crisp vegetables, the aroma of the exotic fruit, the toasted nuts and the no doubt delicious dressing that accompanied it.

“This must make you feel like you were back at Vorkosigan House, Pym,” Ivan said as he loaded his plate. “No more tripe for us, eh?”

“Indeed not, sir. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with Ma Belka. Her grandmother is Ma Kosti’s mother, after all. That’s where they both learned to cook, so I do believe.”

“If you see Ma Kosti before I do, tell her I’m going to kiss her feet the next time I see her. I’m also going to come down and see Ma Belka and cancel that month’s trial as soon as I’ve finished this. I’m not letting her get away.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very pleased to hear that, Count. I won’t say anything though. I’ll let you tell her.” He indicated another silver-domed serving dish. “There’s also dessert. Spiced peach tarts. I think Ma Kosti has been giving her some tips.”

Ivan sat in rapt bliss as he ate his way through lunch. It wasn’t quite identical to the way Ma Kosti prepared her meals but Ma Belka had her own touches that were just as good. He demolished every last morsel down to the crumbs.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t exactly rush down to the kitchen, it was more of a stagger, truth be told, but he found his new cook in a flurry of preparations for dinner.

She smiled anxiously as she saw him. “Was lunch to your satisfaction, my lord?”

He made her sit down for five minutes as the kitchen maids got on with the vegetables. “Ma Belka, how soon can you break the lease on your apartment? In fact, don’t even worry about it. I’ll cover your rent and send in a team to help you all move. The trial period is cancelled. You’re hired, and whatever salary Nicolaides arranged with you I’m upping it by ten percent. I’m absolutely delighted that Ma Kosti sent you to me. Everything had to be disposed of when we had…um…I suppose you could call it a contamination alert, so whatever you need for the kitchen just order it in. Do you think your husband would like to help you with that side of things? I need ordering done for the wine cellar, too. It would only be a very part-time position, but he’ll probably want to take things pretty easy, still. Would that suit?”

She used her apron to wipe her eyes before she said anything at all. “Oh, sir, I don’t know what to say, except thank you. Darek will be so relieved, I can’t tell you. It was terrible for him to have to let me do all the work for the family. He knows I love cooking; I kept trying to tell him it wasn’t a sacrifice, but he’s a man used to providing, and proud, too.”

“He’s served his Emperor well, Ma Belka, and we all deserve some good luck sometimes. You tell him not to worry any more. I’m going to count myself very fortunate to have you both working for me, and I’m going to see what can be done about that queue at ImpMil, too. Two years is a disgrace. I’ll get one of the men to take you home tonight and you can break the news.”

If he’d had any doubts at all, dinner that night dispelled them. Ma Belka confined herself to three courses as it wasn’t a formal affair. They had a seafood bisque with the most delicious fresh crusty bread, vat beef fillet with a flaky pastry coating, gravy and roast vegetables, and then a selection of individual sweets to follow, all beautifully presented. Ivan recognised tiny profiteroles, crème brûlée and marron glacé on the serving plates, plus there were bite-sized meringues, chocolate fancies and pastries as well. Conversation was very sparse. No one wanted to take the time away from eating, least of all him.

Marcus Fox grinned as he finished the last of his chocolate cake topped with crystallised violets and rose petals. “I think we’re going to have to add an extra half hour to the morning run, sir. A diet like this is going to be a serious hazard to the fitness regime.”

“We won't have time tomorrow, Fox,” Ivan told him. “I’ll need you with me at the awards ceremony at The Residence. The rest of you can work off the calories running up and down ladders for Byerly Vorrutyer, and if there’s anyone left over you can all go and help Ma Belka move house. The sooner we get her here the better. I think you’ll all agree.”

He didn’t get any arguments. Harper had volunteered to take Ma Belka home and he slipped off to the kitchen to collect her. Ivan had the rest of the men follow him to the library and he called up By’s designs on the holovid to show them all their new liveries. There were one or two queries about minor details like the style and function of their boots, but in general they were all very impressed. The dress uniforms and the House blacks made them all sit up.

Helen Nicolaides had accompanied them and she queried what her Philip would wear. “Is it going to be the same as these, sir? He’s not an armsman, is he?”

“No, ma’am.” Ivan flicked to the corporate wear. “He’ll be issued with this. I’ve already got the first of the orders in with the ladies in Prestwich. They’re going to be doing the embroidery on the tunic pieces first, before they’re made up. It’s much easier to do the linings and suchlike that way, or so I’ve been told. I made their jobs much harder for them when I had my first House uniform made for me. I know better, now. He probably won’t have to wear it every day, unless he wants to. A regular suit would be fine, as well.”

Nicolaides had been studying the designs. It was the first any of them had seen them. “I think I’d be proud to wear this, my lord. After twenty years of wearing the Emperor’s uniform every day it gets to be a habit. Saves thinking, too.”

He’d just echoed Ivan’s thoughts when he’d had the dilemma about what to wear with his audience with Gregor. Uniforms took the guesswork out of dressing.

“Let’s hope it filters down from the top, then. We can get the household staff into these as well. It never hurts to look smart.”

Pym wasn’t directly involved, but the uniforms got his tick of approval anyway. “Smart is always good, but practical is what counts in the long run. I think these are going to be both. Vorrutyer has incorporated the new designs on the weapons belt. It caters for left-handed armsmen pretty well. That was always a problem we had before.”

Ivan grinned at his men. “All you have to do is pass the security course. We’ll have the oath ceremony three days after that in the ballroom. That should give us time to get your families up from the District. There’ll be space in the armsmen’s quarters for them. I warn you now I’m going to be very disappointed if any of you change your minds at the last minute.”

Karasavas had been a silent onlooker, so far. “Speaking of the security course, my lord, I meant to ask you about it. We still have seven places allocated. Now that Strauss has dropped out I’d better amend the request when I submit the list of names.”

Ivan shook his head. “No, don’t do that, Major. You can add another name instead, Patril. I’m not going to have my armsmen put through anything I wouldn’t be willing to do myself. Besides, in an emergency it’ll be good to know the way they’re going to jump.”

He turned to his secretary. “And that’s why you can have your free time next week, Philip. I’ll be in the tender hands of ImpSec.”

 

Ivan dressed with a great deal of care for the awards ceremony. His hair was longer than a strictly regulation length now, but he’d had his valet give it a trim to neaten it all up and get rid of the wispy bits at the back of his neck. His best house uniform sat snugly without a crease and in honour of the occasion he wore his sword belt too, with the Voralys seal dagger that otherwise lived in his safe. His boots were mirror perfect, and wasn’t he glad he hadn’t had to do that himself!

Major Karasavas was going to accompany him and his dress greens were so immaculate anyone would think he was a member of Gregor’s cavalry troop if it wasn’t for the eyes of Horus gleaming wickedly on his collar. Even ImpSec could scrub up for an occasion like this. Fox drove them both to collect Etienne and Katja Vorinnis a good hour before the ceremony was due to start.

Etienne was ready to go, calm and composed. Ivan was suspicious Katja had had something to do with that, but if she had slipped him a tranquilliser he wasn’t going to argue with her. They took their time getting through Residence security. Katja was led off to her seat in the main room and the others went to wait for the march in. It was amazing the number of household staff who all just happened to have business in or near the reception room and the holding area attached to it. They all came to shake Etienne’s hand and wish him well. Even the Empress managed to startle them all by slipping in for five minutes ahead of the official party. She didn’t shake the major’s hand. She gave him an enormous hug and kissed him on the cheek. Ivan winced for the uniform but was resigned when Laisa did the same to him.

“There’ll be no chance to talk properly afterwards. I have my husband alive and well today because of the two of you. I don’t care about all the stuffy formality. My thanks are from my heart. I’ll never, ever forget this. Gregor is going to skin me alive if I make him late, but I just wanted you to know.”

She disappeared as quickly as she arrived, trailing an armsman. Ivan had to laugh as he smoothed Etienne’s tunic for him and rearranged the disordered aiguillette on his shoulder.

“All that work nearly ruined. Still, I’d rather have the hug, wouldn’t you?”

There was still a spark of humour left in the major’s serene state. His wife wasn’t there, either. He nodded agreement. “It was a pretty damn fine hug, wasn’t it?”

“Ohhh, yes.” Ivan could only agree. “Gregor’s one lucky man.”

Vorinnis touched his aiguillette. “The Emperor called me personally to tell me I had to wear this one last time. He said I was still his aide-de-camp until I signed my resignation.”

“Quite right too. Gregor wouldn’t miss something like that.” Ivan found he had to swallow quickly. _And that was why they’d all follow him to the ends of Barrayar, if he asked._

They were called up into line not long after that. Ivan felt somewhat out of place, being the only man not in green, but no one else seemed to worry about it. They listened to the Imperial fanfare on the other side of the door signalling Gregor’s arrival and then after what must have been a preliminary speech the door was flung open and their names read out one by one by Major Vorinnis’s replacement, the new aide-de-camp. It must have been quite a sobering occasion for him, too.

With his mother still away Ivan wasn’t expecting anyone to be there in the crowd of onlookers for him, but there were Kou and Drou Koudelka, Aral, Cordelia, and _Miles_. Ivan nearly fell over his own feet and had to desperately force himself not to do a double-take. When had the rat got back, and why had no-one told him? He cousin grinned and gave him a cheery wave. Ivan had to concentrate on Gregor as he pinned the gold star to his tunic and shook his hand. His eyes and the warmth of the grip said it all, although his words were quite formal.

“Thank you very much, Count Voralys. You have done the Imperium an enormous service.”

Ivan took two steps back and bowed formally. As he walked away the aide called Etienne Vorinnis forward. There wasn’t a sound in the room as he marched out and saluted. Gregor returned the salute, pinned on the gold star and then, at the handshake, put his second hand over the top and murmured something vey quietly. Spontaneous applause thundered out from the crowd. Ivan caught sight of Katja with tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a fitting send off for him.

There were three men to receive a silver star, and then Major Karasavas marched out, the first of the bronze star recipients. Ivan saw the moment he realised his wife and children were there. It had been a difficult surprise to keep from him, but well worth the effort. Karasavas was a friend now, as well as a trusted colleague. ImpSec officers very rarely got public thanks for their efforts and this one was special.

At the end of the ceremony Ivan was called forward again. Gregor presented him with an elegant black leather case containing the Imperial Gold Star for Captain Fenerty. Ivan had had a quick word to Cordelia about this and he in turn then presented it to her in her capacity as Vicereine of Sergyar to hand it on to Fenerty’s sister. It was quite a moving moment.

Then it was all over. They all stood while Gregor moved off to the refreshments room and then they broke into family groups to follow him through. Ivan made a bee-line for Miles. This wasn’t a place they could talk freely though. Ivan had to contain his language as well as his temper.

“Where the hell have you been,” he hissed, smiling brightly as he shook his cousin’s hand, “and what the hell have you found out?”

Miles smiled back and clapped him on the shoulder. “Later, Ivan, later. But in two words, not much.”

The press of the crowd separated them. Karasavas wanted to introduce his family. His elder girl looked just like him, and was just about jumping out of her skin with pride and awe. She’d met the _Emperor_. Madame Karasavas looked like a good match for her husband. The pride in her eyes as she smiled at him made Ivan’s heart warm. Their younger girl was too small to be anything other than overwhelmed, the little poppet. They were coming back to Voralys House to stay for a few days so Ivan would get a chance to talk to them properly later.

Drou and Kou waited to congratulate him. He hadn’t seen Kou since the wedding.

“And how is the prospective son-in-law turning out, Kou?” he asked. Kou’s eyes glazed over with that near-crogglement he exhibited every time he thought about Count Dono. Drou laughed out loud.

“Just fine, Ivan. Properly respectful, like he should be, every time he comes round for dinner. The Vorrutyer armsmen get the neighbours talking like the Vorbarra or the Vorkosigan ones never did. They’re used to _them_. We’re just waiting for a few Voralys ones to complete the set.”

“I should have some soon, Auntie Drou. Perhaps you’d like to come to the ceremony?”

She smiled her warm and generous smile. “I’d love to, Ivan. Should I bring cake?”

It was his turn to laugh. “No, ma’am, no need. I have a _cook_. She might just give Ma Kosti a run for her money one of theses days. You’ll see.”

Gregor found time for another word as well. Miles wandered back over as they talked.

Gregor looked at them both. “Ivan, see Etienne home and then I want to speak to you and Miles in my office for a debrief. 1400 hours, please. I’ll see you then.”

 

 


	18. Nothing to report

 

 

Etienne Vorinnis made a slow retreat to the exit. There were so many people who wanted to shake his hand and wish him well Ivan had to make a conscious effort not to look at his chrono. Eventually they made it to the West Portico where their ground car was waiting for them. Etienne stepped through the door and pulled up short. Waiting to come out directly behind Katja Vorinnis, Ivan couldn’t see for the moment what the final holdup was, although he’d heard a shouted order as Etienne had exited the building

Gregor had sent a half-score of armsmen to form a guard of honour, five either side in their dress uniforms with their sabres raised in a farewell salute. Etienne had worked every day with these men for nearly three years and he knew them all by name. It was one final honour and an even more fitting farewell.

Ivan offered his arm to Katja and they hung back a little as the major made his emotional departure. Once he was in the ground car and the squad had returned to parade rest Ivan had a few words with Gerard, in command of the armsmen. By the time he handed Katja in to her seat and joined them, Etienne had managed to compose himself, mostly. His wife reached over to squeeze his hand and give him a kiss.

“That was a lovely thing to do, wasn’t it?” She asked him.

“It was…a very great honour.” Vorinnis craned his neck to see the last of The Residence disappear from sight round a corner as the ground car pulled into the main traffic stream. He didn’t say anything else as they made their way home, and Ivan didn’t see the need to interrupt his thoughts. He saw them to the door but declined to go in as he only had twenty-five minutes to get back to The Residence and that was cutting it a bit tight. He gave Etienne a hug and kissed Katja on the cheek.

“Enjoy yourselves down in Rotherhall. I’ll try and get to see you there but I have an ImpSec course coming up. I’ll be chasing my backside for a week and won’t have any chance to talk to you.”

He hustled the driver to get them back to The Residence. Luckily the security area was fairly quiet and all he had to do was walk quickly to Gregor’s office rather than the mad dash he’d been afraid of.

Miles was there ahead of him, and also Guy Allegre. The general looked careworn, as well he might. Miles looked tired, but frustrated energy was boiling out of him like steam from a volcano waiting to erupt.They had no chance to talk before they were shown through to the private office. Gregor was waiting for them at the conversation area over by the window. He waved them all down to the seats without any ceremony.

“So, Miles, tell us.”

“I wish I could, sire!” Miles would much rather have been pacing, by the look of him. His foot tapped the floor and his hands fidgeted with his auditor’s chain. “I have absolutely nothing definite to report. There’s no trace of Vorresiak. He used a false name, obviously. Nobody has heard of him, nobody’s seen him. Count Vorguriyev is the damnedest twisty weasel you could ever imagine—” he broke off at Ivan’s incredulous stare.

“Not funny, Ivan.”

“No, it isn’t, is it? Anyway, go on.”

“I just didn’t have the grounds to fast-penta the Count. Even if he _had_ brought up an orphan from the Escobar war, which he hadn’t, he told me that much, and I believed him, that’s not against any law. In fact, it’s encouraged. Most of those children found good homes. There’s no record of anyone ordering a gene scan. There’s nothing to suggest anybody had any idea who he really was. I went back to square one and traced the adopted boy Amon from the orphanage to the family in Vorguriyev district. I talked to Amon’s elementary school teacher. His family name was Covich then. There was no connection to the Count that she knew of; his adoptive parents owned a plumbing business. They’re living on Sergyar now as plumbers are in very short supply there but they migrated as a couple with no dependents. He certainly didn’t go with them. I traced the ship’s manifest to check. There were no single males in the right age bracket. Every one of the other passengers checked out. There’s a trace out on every known Covich and a special interrogator is on his way to Sergyar to track down the parents. I have even got a data scan running to list every male with the first name of Amon between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. They’re all being followed up. The whole of ImpSec is going to be tied up for weeks. The people I _could_ fast-penta knew nothing. My entire report is a whole lot of _nothing._ ”

Guy Allegre had to agree with him. “My men have turned up nothing much of any value, either, apart from the fact that Lord Boris Vorguriyev, the Count’s second son, attended the Academy in the same cadre as Lord Vorbataille. They were known associates. Lord Vorbataille resigned his commission after ten years’ service as a very indifferent lieutenant. Lord Boris is still serving as a military attache to the ambassador on Escobar. They haven’t had recent contact. I’ve put our man there onto surveillance, but it will take time, of course.”

“It would be very good news if Count Vorguriyev did know nothing about the whole affair,” Gregor pointed out, “but it stretches credulity. He’ll know We’re watching him now. We’ll likely not see him in town until Our birthday.”

Ivan tried to summarise the details. “So with two dead ends we’re left with a slim chance of a lead at my party tomorrow night, or someone catches up with Louis Vorbataille at last. Does anyone else think this Vorresiak is either off-planet or dead?”

General Allegre wasn’t convinced. “It’s still to soon to say for sure. Count Vorfolse is still under surveillance. We’re also still following up on the assassin. Tracing his financial details is difficult. There was a cash deposit made to his account at a bank on Komarr, so we’re making extensive inquiries there, too.”

“All of this is frustrating and disappointing.” Gregor looked bleak. “What further steps do you propose to take?”

Miles was the first to speak. “I’m going to go to Vorbataille’s District and start again there. I think the Count may be more open to persuasion, but he’s living in mortal fear that his son has taken a step too far. If Louis was at all tied up with Vorclarence and the biocide smuggling he’s a dead man walking, and the Count knows that. With his wife being injured in the attack in the Great Square he might be ready to talk, though. He has other family members to think about. Vorclarence’s attainder must be giving him nightmares.”

“I’m going to feed and water every shady character on the Vorbarr Sultana social scene,” Ivan said, “except it won’t be water. The general here has got the palace servitors on to it and as we speak Byerly Vorrutyer is installing all manner of surveillance, so if _anything_ the least bit fishy rears its ugly head we should be on to it. Turn over enough rocks and _something_ should crawl out.”

“Very well.” Gregor stood up and they all leapt to join him. “keep me informed.”

The three of them bowed and backed up to the door. Ivan was the last to leave. He hung back for a moment. “Anything else I can do, sire? If you need to talk?”

Gregor shook his head. “No, thanks, Ivan. The other day was…an aberration. I’m on top of it now.”

“That’s good to hear. Just give me a call, any time, except I’ll be on the ImpSec course next week. I’m not sure what access will be like, but _you_ should be able to reach me.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.” Gregor sat back at his desk. Ivan bowed again and left.

 

Voralys House was a hive of activity when Ivan returned. Delivery lift vans were lined up by the service entrance and Driscoll and Kosa were manoeuvering a huge roll of red carpet in the entrance hall, rolling it from one reel to another to check for dirt or damage. They stopped what they were doing and jumped to attention when he appeared.

“Is that hired or is that mine?” Ivan inquired.

Driscoll pointed out the oak leaves and acorns woven in along both sides. “Yours, sir. You have an entertainment storage section in the basement. Carpet, folding tables, extra chairs, cupboards full of table cloths, portable clothes racks and we don’t know what else. Vorrutyer found them all when he went looking with Armsman Pym.”

“Well, he’s efficient, anyway. Is he here now?”

Kosa nodded. “Yes, sir. In the ballroom.”

Ivan slipped into the room almost unnoticed. Devaux and Sarmiento had each climbed enormous ladders either side of one of the tall windows as Byerly Vorrutyer directed placement of sweeping floor to ceiling drapes of silver net. Pym, arms folded, stood behind By, watching with critical approval as the decorations took shape. His head turned as quickly as his hand flashed to his stunner at the movement near the door. He relaxed just as quickly as he recognised Ivan.

_Back to the door, Pym? Tsk Tsk._

There was only one window to go after this one and the other four looked most impressive. Harper was busy erecting the portable tables they had discovered to line the walls in between the windows. One of the agency housemaids came behind with fitted tablecloths, swathing each table as it was set up. Ivan waited until Devaux and Sarmiento were safely down the ladders before interrupting.

“It’s looking good, By. I hope you’re not going to bankrupt me.”

“Not at all. I got a bulk discount down at that fabric warehouse by the spaceport. It’s only ten marks a metre and ten metres easily does a window and the table next to it.”

“Six hundred marks? Think of the booze that could have bought.”

“Think of the style it _has_ bought.” By retorted “You’ve moved up in the world, Count Voralys. You have to remember you’re an important man, now.”

He turned back to oversee the last window as the men moved the ladders. He looked different, somehow, Ivan thought, although it was hard to put a finger on it. Some of the mannerisms were gone, but he could turn those on and off with ease. He was less on edge, and _interested_. That was it. He was concentrating and moving with purpose. Ivan preferred the new By to the drunken reprobate he normally portrayed.

“Come to the library and have a break when you’ve finished this last one. Is there much left to do?”

“The flowers are coming in tomorrow, for the other wall, and the tables, so not much, really. It’s under control, from my end at least. I don’t know about the wine, or the food. Nicolaides is coordinating that side of things.”

“I’ll just pop down to the kitchen and check on that side, then, and I’ll see you in the library in ten minutes.” Not that he needed an excuse to visit the kitchen in his own home, but this was a perfect one.

Ma Belka was up to her elbows in a huge bowl of something smelling of cinnamon when he got there. There was a man talking to her, sitting on the stool by the ordering nook. Ivan didn’t recognise him. He saw him in profile at first, but when the man turned to see who had come in, it was obvious that this was her husband, Darek. The whole left side of his head and down into his neck was a mass of ugly scar tissue. His uniform might have prevented further damage down his torso, but Ivan could see that his left hand had been burned as well. It looked like his eye had been saved, but the eyelid was puckered and pulled down, obscuring his vision.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing, Ma Belka.” Ivan crossed the room to shake hands with her husband. “I just wanted to see how things were going. Good to meet you, Yeoman Belka. Have you come to make sure we’re taking good care of your wife?”

“Count Voralys, sir.” Belka’s gaze slipped from meeting Ivan’s eyes down to the Imperial Gold Star on his chest and further down over his House uniform, before looking back at him directly. Ivan wondered what he was thinking.

“I’ve just come from the Imperial Residence. I don’t dress like this every day.”

Belka smiled a little. “No, sir. I didn’t think you would. Olga had just finished telling me about the ceremony today. Congratulations.”

So she was called Olga, was she? Ivan hadn’t asked. “Thank you. It was quite impressive. Anyway, did your wife explain to you that we’d like your family to live here, and there’s work for you if you’re feeling up to it? We’ve had to change the whole household staff and we need help with everything. I can’t keep on with having whoever staff the agency sees fit to send us next. I much prefer to be settled.”

“She did, but I have a problem with that. I…er…I like blunt speaking.”

Ivan looked at him somewhat warily. “It’s always best. Please say what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case.” There was pride, massive hurt and pain in those eyes looking at him. Ivan could understand completely.

“Good God, I should hope not! Belka, you obviously realise this already, but your wife is a living treasure and I don’t want to lose her. I understand you have a disability that’s going to take a while to put right, but that’s not going to interfere with what we want you to do here. I need someone to take some of the load off my secretary. It’s a desk job and you’ll be driving a comconsole. I’m also running out of staff quarters, so having you double up with my cook is an absolute godsend.” He stopped to grin at him. “Nicolaides tells me you’ll be a perfect fit with your stores training. It’s a win-win situation and you’ll be doing proper work for a fair wage. I can’t say more than that.”

Ma Belka spoke up for the first time. “He’s a good man, Darek. I told you that. I’ve seen for myself he really does need help. There’s a whole list of stores there I haven’t had time to order today, yet. I’d have to stay behind late to do it, otherwise. And then there’s the kids. You know we didn’t like that school. This way we can move them.”

Belka considered for a moment or so, then gave a decisive nod. “I think you’re telling me the truth. Thank you very much, Count. I’d like to accept your offer for myself and my family.”

“Excellent. That’s settled.”

Ma Belka opened a proving cupboard and pulled out an enormous batch of dough. She’d been mixing the spice to go in before the second proving. “Spice bread for breakfast, my lord,” she told him. “It was a special request.”

“Save some for me. I’m surprised you’ve got time for it, though. How’s the food for tomorrow night looking?”

Ma Belka actually winked at him. “Don’t you dare tell anyone, my lord, but I have some volunteer help coming in tomorrow. It’s her day off. Just this once, she said, to put me in the right way of things.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Would that be a day off from Vorkosigan House?”

“Ask no questions and be told no lies, but you don’t have to worry about the food tomorrow, as long as those orders go in.”

She slid the batch back into the proving cupboard to rise again. “Now, would you be needing something to eat, my lord? Didn’t the Emperor feed you?”

“Just a snack, if you have time, Ma Belka. For two, with coffee and tea, in the library. I’d better get up there or Byerly Vorrutyer will be there before me.”

“He’s a charmer, that one,” she remarked. “Ever so polite, he is, and laugh! He had us all in stitches this morning, when the maids were here.”

“Did he, now? He’d better not be trying to poach my cook, or he’ll be out on his ear, decorations or no decorations. I’ll let you get on. Thank you, and thank you, too, Yeoman Belka.”

By was leaving the ballroom as Ivan came up the kitchen steps. "What’s this I hear about you flirting with my cook, Vorrutyer? That’s a very easy way to make a deadly blood feud enemy, you realise?”

By denied it. “I wasn’t _flirting_ , I was just practising my charm offensive for tomorrow night. Nobody objected.”

“See it doesn’t happen again. Come on in and you can tell me what bugs you’ve got planned. I didn’t see any potted plants yet.”

They reached the library and By opened the door to go in first, casting a sharp glance round the room. He was another one who was well trained. They sank into leather armchairs either side of the fireplace, empty and screened on this warm summer afternoon. By sighed and stretched out.

“My internal clock hasn’t adapted yet. I was up at the crack of dawn today. It must have been 0800 hours.”

“ _Crack of dawn?_ I spent the last ten years of my life being at my desk ready to start work at 0800. You’ll get no sympathy from me. Have you got your surveillance in place?”

“Yes, that was all done before we brought the others in to help. Karasavas and I have got everything covered. He’ll be monitoring from a room on the second floor. We’ll just give you a couple of bugs to wear tomorrow. Have you got your outfit picked out? Smart casual, with a touch of Vor panache? Need any help deciding?”

Luckily Fox entered just then with the trolley of refreshments. Ivan swallowed the retort he was about to make and contented himself instead with glowering at By over his coffee cup.

By sipped his own coffee and regarded the tray of delicacies with favour. “One of your smarter moves, that cook, Ivan. Are those shrimp puffs I spy?”

“Quite possibly. Let me see.” He snaffled three of them onto his plate before By could hog the lot. They were indeed shrimp puffs and they were absolutely delicious.

“All Count and no class. Whatever would your mother say?” By helped himself to one of the puffs and bit into it with every appearance of delight.

“She’ll say, ‘when can we move in?’”

That brought By upright with a jerk. He just saved his coffee cup. “Your mother is moving into Voralys House?”

“I’ve invited her. There’s plenty of room and there’ll be no arguments over Marie, that way.”

“Marie? Oh, yes, your adopted daughter. I was thinking more along the lines of Raine, but at least with your new title there’ll be no conflict over who is Lady Vorpatril.”

“She hasn’t said yes, yet.” Ivan stared into his coffee cup. By took the opportunity of his distraction to purloin another shrimp puff.

“Oh, she’ll marry you. What’s not to like?”

By had that gleam in his eye again, one Ivan had seen before. “No, you don’t, By.”

“Oh, well,” By leaned forward. “I’ll just have to distract myself with the last shrimp puff.” His grab was fractionally faster that Ivan’s and he licked the puff slowly before pushing it into his mouth with a lean forefinger. He withdrew the finger even more slowly, trailing it along his tongue.

“You’re disgusting, Vorrutyer.” Ivan tried to sound outraged, but an unwilling chuckle broke out instead at the lascivious look on By’s face.

“You’ll see worse tomorrow, I promise you. Make sure all the doors are locked on the upper floors.”

“Pym’s got that covered. No funny business while he’s around.”

By used his finger to pick up the last remaining crumbs. “I hope so, Ivan. I really hope so.”

 

 


	19. Party time

 

 

By’s unease triggered something that had been lurking at the back of his mind. At 1700 hours on the afternoon of the party Ivan called a staff briefing in the library. It was time to take a deep breath and let people know what was going on. Everyone was there, including Helen Nicolaides and Darek Belka. Ivan had personally introduced him to all the staff individually that morning to make sure everyone was comfortable. _Ma_ Belka’s mysterious volunteer was more than capable of looking after the kitchen for her for ten minutes.

“First of all, I would like to thank everyone for your incredible hard work the last few days. If we were in space I’d call this a shakedown cruise. We’re all learning together, and that most certainly includes me. I’m limited in what I can tell you about tonight, but I do need, and want, you to know this is…um…a _political_ gathering with Imperial security concerns. These people are not my friends, nor do I condone the way some of them will behave, unfortunately. Your safety is my paramount concern. Guests are not permitted anywhere in the house apart from the public rooms on the ground floor. Be very firm with them if they try to wander and call me if you need help. I’ll back you up. If anyone at all makes any _personal_ advances to you that’s totally unacceptable and they will be escorted from the premises immediately. The Municipal Guard has been alerted about the function tonight and they’ll have increased patrols in the area.”

He stopped to look around. “Those of you who can, stand down for three hours and take a rest. Make sure you have a meal. It’s going to be full on later. Thanks, everyone. Yeoman and Ma Belka, and Madame Nicolaides, may I speak to you, please?”

Ivan didn’t like to even _think_ what would happen if anyone tried to mess with Mikhail Karasavas’s wife or kids, but he wasn’t going to take the remotest of chances with their welfare. He’d seen what ugly customers some of those town clowns could be. It was a good job he had plans to redecorate the house as he’d want to get rid of the taint once they’d gone.

He waited until the rest had left the room, then unlocked a drawer in his desk. “Belka, I’d like you to take charge of the staff accommodation and make sure the children are not disturbed. As you know, as well as your family we have Madame Karasavas and her children staying at the moment. Your wife will be joining you as soon as the last serving trays are assembled. The agency staff will deal with all the clearing up, and you can both have the day off together tomorrow. I’d like to issue you with a stunner and my full permission to use it.”

He handed over the weapon. Belka took the stunner from Ivan with a nod and checked it carefully before sliding it into his pocket.

“There won’t be any need to worry about us, Count. I can’t sleep, anyway, these days.”

Ivan turned to Helen Nicolaides. “Madame, you’re very welcome to attend tonight but I want to issue you with a stunner and a panic alarm as well. I’ll need Philip with me, most likely. All the guests will be screened for weapons, but they may well have drugs with them, or have taken them before they arrive, and I have no doubt they’ll be drinking large quantities of alcohol.”

Helen looked at him as she took the stunner from him with her finger and thumb and held it at length.

“Just what sort of party are you expecting tonight, my lord Count?”

Ivan shrugged. “I don’t know what to expect, Madame, but not at all my usual sort of party. I can assure you of that. Much better to be safe than sorry. All of the men will be carrying stunners. If you have a problem shoot first and we’ll sort it out afterwards. The permits are all signed, so you don’t have to worry about legalities.”

He ran down to the kitchen and looked in awe at the mountains of food ready to go, mostly on trays in the pantries for the cold food and for the hot food racks unearthed from the storage cupboards, that rolled straight in to the commercial oven used for occasions just like this. There were even big vats of stroganoff for everyone not eating at the party. Ma Kosti beamed when she saw him. “I’m just off home, my lord. I’m glad I got to see you. I’m so pleased you hired Olga, and I didn’t look for you to give Darek a job, but I should have known you would be kind like that. The pair of them deserve some good luck after what they’ve been through.”

Ivan kissed Ma Kosti and gave her a quick hug. “I’m the lucky one, and you know it. I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

She blushed pink and batted at his arm in embarrassment. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, my lord, that was in my power. I haven’t forgotten what you did for the Emperor, and everything you’ve gone through since. I serve Lord Vorkosigan and his family, and you’re part of it. I’d better go home before you have me in tears.”

There was a gaggle of paparazzi hanging around the main gate. He might have guessed the party would be big news on the gossip scene. Luckily there were municipal guardsmen to deal with the press as Lord Vorbohn had been very accommodating when his help had been requested. Guests started arriving on the dot of 2100 hours, the very earliest start time By had advised if Ivan wanted to catch the night owls. Ground cars and auto cabs lined up for half a block to disgorge their glamorous passengers under the porte-cochère.

The whole house was lit up by spotlights. The ballroom looked stunning, with all of the chandeliers sparkling down on the winter wonderland of white and silver. The other public salons on the ground floor were equally elegant in their own way. The Vorclarence opulence meant that little extra decoration was required in them, apart from the special ImpSec floral arrangements, and those were all white. The red carpet on the steps up to the front door and into the hall looked supremely dignified, fitted that afternoon by Driscoll and Kosa, and flanked either side by standard white rose trees in large pots, hired for the evening. The courtyard was very securely locked off, as were all the doors leading in to it.

Guy Allegre’s squad had arrived at 2000 hours to be briefed, and now they were circulating with trays of drinks and finger food. By 2200 hours the party was in full swing. There was dancing in the ballroom, and the dining room, blue salon and library all hosted groups of people chatting and drinking. Byerly Vorrutyer was in his element, flitting from group to group gossiping and delivering a running commentary on the people and proceedings in his own inimitable style. Ivan only had a few brief words with him as he welcomed all the guests.

Helen Nicolaides very soon retired to bed. Her excellent view of Lord Marcel Vorevreaux and Fabian Vortalence on a sofa next to her with their tongues down each other’s throats left her less than amused. She found her husband standing beside Ivan and handed him her half-drunk glass of wine.

“I’m out of here, Philip. You’re welcome to this lot. I’m locking the door so you'll need to call me on my wristcom when you want to be let in.”

Nicolaides escorted her up to their room, leaving Ivan temporarily on his own. Having at least six, no, make that _seven_ of his ex-girlfriends in the same room at the same time wasn’t exactly a treat for him, especially as they were all determined to regain his attention if not his affection. The first one to plaster herself against him was enough for him. He wouldn’t have minded a bit, once, but things had changed. He resorted to standing securely between Pym and Fox with his back to a wall. Frontal assaults in the face of the enemy he could handle. Rabid Vor dragons-in-waiting all wanting a piece of him, or at least a piece of his title, were something else. They’d have to fight each other off to get close. He did wonder whatever it was he’d seen in Stasya Vorkalnins, though. They’d had fun a few years back, but these days she looked strung out and anorexic. Those damn drugs were going to kill her for sure. The more he looked the more he realised just how many of these people were in the grip of one substance or another. It gave him a new respect for Byerly Vorrutyer. He’d done well to keep himself from being totally consumed by this destructive lifestyle.

_So when had he grown up and become so judgemental?_

Ivan had to laugh. He might have been an idiot all his life, but he wasn’t enough of an idiot to ruin himself, like these fools were doing.

With Pym, his small band of almost-armsmen and his secretary pressed into service Ivan had to be content with guarding the kitchens and wine cellar, and preventing anyone from escaping to the upper floors and the staff quarters. He hadn’t really expected to enjoy his party, but having it turn into a living nightmare was not something he’d been quite prepared for. Being a bachelor in a small apartment he’d usually been a guest at someone else’s do, or else hired a venue if he wanted to entertain his friends to anything other than a quiet dinner. Voralys House was a very big area to police. He’d naively thought he and Pym between them had enough experience to cope with even the most determined party-goers seeking little private spots, he from the seeker’s side and Pym from the preventer’s side, but it had never occurred to him that By’s acquaintances wouldn’t even _bother_ with private spots.

By 0200 hours one of the serving tables in the ballroom was good enough for one energetic couple to roll underneath, and the carpet in the library would never be the same again. There were at least six sets of assorted arms and legs and other anatomical features on view in there. Ivan beat a hasty retreat. So much for circulating through the rooms. Fortunately he’d never liked that carpet much, anyway.

Kosa and Harper were standing by the front stairs as he returned to the hall. He just stared at them in horror. “What the hell?”

He hadn’t really thought through all the ramifications of hosting this rabble, had he? He’d be mortified if Kosa and Harper, and all of his men, thought these people were his usual company. He only hoped By and Mikhail Karasavas were picking up lots of useful intelligence.

“The ladies weren’t very impressed when we wouldn’t let them up the stairs, my lord, seeing as how some of them already had half their clothes off.” Kosa kept his face straight, although he did have a bit of a wide look to his eyes. “I do believe Lord Marcel had already appropriated the blue salon, and the dining room isn’t exactly cosy, so the library was the only room left available.”

“Lord Marcel Vorevreaux? In my blue salon? With whom? Wait, no, do I really want to know?”

“That one’s more in the nature of…er…financial transactions, my lord.” Harper tried to reassure him and failed spectacularly. “There was a queue outside the door a few moments ago. It seems to have died down a bit, now.”

“So Vorevreaux’s the dealer, is he?” Ivan said it out loud more to make sure the information was recorded rather than as any unwelcome news to himself.

Enough was enough. He turned off the booze at 0300 hours. Eight straight hours of drinking ought to be enough for anybody. It took him another hour to usher the walking wounded out through the front door and a further hour to run a sweep to locate all the unconscious bodies and pour them into ground cars and auto cabs.

The detritus of discarded clothing, plates, glasses, half-eaten food and god only knew what else could stay there for the clean-up crew. Ivan wandered through to the ballroom, where By Vorrutyer waited for him, sprawled in one chair with his feet up on another one he had pulled round, his head slumped back against the wall. His once-spotless suit was stained and rumpled, his shirt undone half way to his waist and his eyes red-rimmed and weary.

“Good night, By?”

By wouldn’t look at him. He stared over at a blank wall as his fists clenched and his expression turned murderous. “Marcel Vorevreaux needs to wind up in a gutter with his throat cut. I might just do it myself. Did you see the state of Stasya Vorkalnins, and little Evelina Vortien? She just had her twentieth birthday two months ago. That stuff he’s peddling wouldn’t just kill a horse, it would kill the whole of the Emperor’s cavalry troop. It comes from Jackson’s Whole.”

“I noticed Stasya. I had to peel her off me. Evelina was busy in the library when I went by, earlier. I wouldn’t like to be her parents.”

“Well, the good news is we’ve got the link to Louis Vorbataille. He does the smuggling from Jackson’s Whole and Vorevreaux is the distribution man. Vorbataille used to meet up with that fast pinnace the _Kanzian_ took out. Once that door was closed he’s had to run it in on his yacht when he has those so-called match races with Theo Vormercier. I don’t think Theo’s involved, though, even though he’s living well beyond his means. He must have something else going on.”

“What about Fabian Vortalence? Do you have anything on him? He seemed to be…um…very pally with Vorevreaux earlier.”

This time By did turn to look at Ivan. His expression became smoothly blank. “You don’t have to worry about Fabian Vortalence.”

“I see.” All Ivan knew about Fabian Vortalence was that he had washed out of the Academy. _Or so the story went._ Another one of ImpSec’s dirty angels?

“Any word on the other matter?”

By sighed. “Nothing that I heard. Karasavas might have had more luck, or Guy Allegre’s people.”

Pym came to find him in the ballroom. His face was unreadable. Ivan could only guess what he was thinking. He was the father of a teenage girl, after all.

“Never again, Pym. never, ever again. I had no idea.”

Pym passed him a holovid recorder. “One of the gent—no, make that males, in the library, doesn’t know he’s lost this, my lord. He’ll probably wake up thinking he passed out. A stunner migrane isn’t that much different to a hangover. He was going to hawk this filth round the town over my dead body.”

“It wasn’t Theo Vormercier, was it, Pym?” By asked him. “We haven’t managed to work out how he makes his money, yet. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“No, sir. It was Count Vorolney’s youngest son. I’ll have a word to the Count’s guard commander. That’s one that seriously needs his wings clipped, that is.”

Ivan wasn’t feeling very charitable. “He could take a long walk out of a short airlock. That might adjust his attitude.” He looked at the holovid recorder with distaste. “Do you need this for evidence, By?”

“We’d better hang on to it. It can get passed on to whichever faceless analyst at headquarters has the unmitigated joy of looking at all of these. Give it to Major Karasavas. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Fox and the other men had gathered in the main hall by the time Ivan got back out there. He felt ashamed of what he’d put them through.

“I want you all to have a think about what you saw here tonight. I’m _sorry_. You’ve all seen drunken Vor at The Residence functions but this was something else. This is the type of thing we’re going to be fighting in Prestwich, and in New Sheffield. These scum don’t deserve to breathe the same air as ordinary decent people. It’s not everyone, though. Most of the people here tonight are just bored, not bad." He sighed and wiped his face.  "I’m going to have one last look around to make sure there’s nothing the kids might find in the morning, then I’m off to bed. Take the day off tomorrow. We’ll be leaving in…” he looked at his chrono and winced, “in just over twenty seven hours’ time for the security course. Make sure you’re rested. And thank you again.”

Kosa turned to Sarmiento. "Let's bring that carpet in and set the house shields."

Fox nodded to Harper. "Are you brave enough to help roll up that carpet in the library? It can go out into the courtyard. We might just check all the couches and armchairs, as well."

Deveaux and Driscoll headed off to the dining room and Nicolaides followed Pym into the blue salon.

“Wait! Didn’t you understand? You can all stand down. You were dismissed!” Ivan watched in bewildered confusion.

By put a hand on his arm. “They’re not going to go to sleep until you do, Ivan. Let’s go and sort out that ballroom. We can stack up all the empty bottles, at least.”

Ivan checked that the kitchen was spotless before he at last took a sleeptimer and rolled into bed. He wasn’t going to stir for anything less than the roof coming off or a Cetagandan battleship jumping through the last wormhole from Komarr.

 

He was woken less than four hours later by the incessant chime of his comconsole. _Who? What?_

It wasn’t Gregor; the tone wasn’t right. It must be someone with his private code, though. Maybe Miles? Ivan just groaned when he staggered out of bed and reached to turn off the noise. _It was his mother._

_“_ Good morning, Mamère. What can I do for you this morning?”

There were no preliminary greetings or pleasantries. Her tone was very clipped. “You can explain, Ivan. I have had so many calls from my friends this morning.”

“I beg your pardon? Calls about what?”

“Apparently you’ve seen fit to hold an orgy at Voralys House, according to _Good Morning VS_. Lady Mary Vorville was very shocked. I thought you’d put all that sort of behaviour behind you.”

He might feel a bit better if he _had_ enjoyed a little bit of recreation the night before, but this was totally unjust.

“Orgies? _Me_? The last orgy I came any where near was on Cetaganda, years ago, for goodness sake! This is nothing but spite and gossip. The last reporter from _Good Morning VS_ killed Captain Fenerty and tried to murder _me_. I don’t know how you could have forgotten that already. It was only a few days ago. I’m surprised _anyone_ gives them credence any more." He stopped for a breath. "Secondly, there were three hundred people here last night, and to my knowledge maybe ten of them misbehaved like that. You’ve surely seen enough of it yourself at The Residence. I’m really surprised you’d listen to Lady Mary Vorville, too. I’m even more surprised that she’s shocked by an orgy. Talk about a hypocrite.”

Lady Alys’s eyes narrowed at the criticism of her friend.

“I’m not bringing Marie back to a situation where her moral welfare is in danger, Ivan.”

Anger flared faster than he could ever have believed. “Don’t you _dare_ try and blackmail me over this! There is no danger to Marie’s moral welfare. I have a seven year old and two other children living here now. She’ll have company her own age and every possible advantage. She’s enrolled in Princess and Countess Olivia Vorbarra Vorkosigan elementary and she’ll be starting there when school goes back.”

_Pick the bones out of that, Mamère._

“Without consulting me?”

“I’m her male guardian. I don’t have to consult you.”

He heard his mother’s swift intake of breath. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

Ivan was tired of arguing with his mother. He was tired full stop. He had much bigger things to worry about right now. The last shred of his temper snapped.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself trying, Mamère. You have one more week with Marie, and then she’s coming to live with me. _If_ you’re really worried about her the invitation is still open. You can live here with Simon if you wish, and, just by the way, I’d love to see how you explain _that_ relationship to Marie. Moral welfare, indeed."

He let that sink in for a moment.

"Don’t try and call me this week, I’ll be on an ImpSec course so I’ll speak to you when I get back. It’s either a Voralys District matter, in which case you have no hope, or it’s a Vorbarra District matter, or it’s an Imperial matter. In both of those cases it would go straight to the top as no-one else would touch it. You’re never going to be such a fool as to make Gregor choose between the two of us. If you force his hand Laisa will have to turn to Delia Koudelka for help, as _you_ won’t be ruling the roost at The Residence any more.”

Without bothering to wait for a reply he cut the com and strode off into the bathroom to run a cold shower. _Aunt Cordelia._ That’s who he needed to sort this out.

 


	20. Apologies and Strategies

 

 

Ivan hadn’t even stepped into the shower before he started to regret what he’d said. His mother had no idea about the reason for the party, after all. He’d taken his bad mood out on her, too, which was grossly unfair. By the time his depilatory started working he knew he had to apologise. _Thank God he hadn’t blurted out the reason he thought Lady Mary was a hypocrite._ He sighed and turned the cold water up to full blast.

There was no sign of his valet when he walked back into his bedroom with a towel slung round his hips. Perhaps he was sleeping in as well, so he’d have to find his own clothes. _What a hardship._ He’d just slid into the habit of having someone looking after him and he hadn’t even noticed when he’d done it.

It took a few minutes to find a casual outfit for the day, but once he’d combed his hair there was no putting it off any longer. He sat at the comconsole and punched in his mother’s code. The chime sounded for a long time. He was just about to compose a message for her when her face appeared. His polite, formal message flew straight out of his head. She looked very unhappy.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ivan, I’m sorry.”

He’d beaten her to it by a split second. They looked at each other in silence for a time. His mother…had his mother been _crying_?

“I’m really, really sorry, Mamère. That was quite unforgiveable of me. You didn’t deserve it. You know I love you. Last night was…um…very difficult.”

“Simon spoke to me just now. He said I wasn’t being fair to you, that you’re my son and I should trust you, and of course he was right. I’m very worried about your reputation, though, Ivan. Lady Mary told me her nephew had taken drugs at your house.”

“Did she also tell you Byerly Vorrutyer organised the guest list?”

“No, she—oh!”

Ivan could see the light dawn. His mother had never been slow on the uptake. There wasn’t any need to say anything else.

“My reputation might be shot to hell, but you certainly don’t need to worry about me. Look, Mamère, I’m going to try and see Aunt Cordelia today. We need to sort things out properly and we’re going to need a referee when we do it. With any luck she won’t leave for Sergyar before we can all sit down and talk. You know she’ll be able to sort the both of us out.” Not that he really thought _he_ needed sorting out, but no doubt Aunt Cordelia would put him right soon enough.

Ivan could see the war raging behind his mother’s eyes. She’d probably rather choke than let Cordelia mess with her head, but if she’d thought at all about what he’d said earlier she’d also know they had to reach a compromise or risk a permanent breach between the two of them. She came to a decision.

“Very well. I agree to a meeting with Cordelia. Marie is missing you very much and we can neither of us allow this to affect her, can we?”

“No, we can’t. Is Marie there? I won’t be able to talk to her all next week. I should let her know. Oh, and Mamère, I haven’t said thankyou, either, for the wonderful care you and Simon are both giving her. She looks so fit and healthy, now.”

“Well, that’s because we love her, Ivan. You know that. I’ll just go and find her.”

Marie’s unbounded enthusiasm for life cheered him up like nothing else could. Her face fell when he told her he’d be out of touch for a week, but she wasn’t downcast for long.

“I’ll see you soon, though, My Ivan. You won’t forget me, will you?”

“I could never forget you, princess. It’s only eight more sleeps.” He held up his spread fingers and then folded his thumbs in. “See? This many. Can you do that?”

She held up her own little fingers to show him, but she had five on one hand and three on the other. “I can count to eight. I can count to ten, really, but I don’t need to.”

“You enjoy the week. Are you doing anything special?”

Her whole face changed as her eyes screwed up and she hid her mouth with her hands. She whispered. “Papi Simon says it’s a _surprise_ for you.”

“Oh, that sounds good. I bet you’re making a really special picture for me.”

Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “Not telling.”

“No, you can’t if it’s a secret. I’ll just have to wait. Bye bye, sweetheart. You be a good girl.”

“Bye, My Ivan.” She blew him a kiss.

There was no one in the hall as he wandered down stairs, although the force shield had been deactivated. He poked his head into the library. Apart from the missing carpet it looked normal, but empty. The lure of coffee sent him down to the kitchen. Pym was there, talking to Darek Belka. They both stood up, the armsman automatically moving to serve him as Belka excused himself.

“Good morning, Count. We didn’t expect to see you quite so soon. Coffee? There’s a batch of spiced bread, just made.”

“Sounds wonderful." Ivan slumped onto a stool. "My mother called me. She was not a happy lady.”

“I didn’t think it would be long before someone told her about the holovid report.” Pym bustled about, finding coffee and a plate to go with the basket of bread sitting on the kitchen table. “It’s a storm in a teacup. Apart from that fool boy Vorolney, that is, and not to mention that criminal Marcel Vorevreaux, who should both take a wormhole jump to hell, I saw much worse at The Residence in my time. At least those women were willing.”

He looked bleak, remembering. Ivan tried to calculate in his head. Yes, Pym would have known Prince Serg.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t do much to cheer me up. It’s not exactly glowing praise to say I’m better than the Crown Prince.” Ivan gestured for Pym to sit down again. “I need to talk to you, Pym.”

“I need to tell you something first, sir. Your valet quit. He shook the polluted dust of Voralys House off his feet and walked out.”

What other fallout was there going to be? Ivan sighed. “I managed to dress myself this morning without any help. He’s no loss, really.”

“You’ll need someone. Kosa’s your man. He did quite a bit of valet service when he worked at The Residence. He’s already commented that he could do a better job of looking after you than that agency man did.”

“It’s fine by me. I must admit I didn’t miss polishing my own boots. But Pym, we’re all leaving for a week, tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. This is my last day here at Voralys House. I was just waiting to say goodbye.”

Ivan nodded glumly. “I’ve used up far too much of your time and your good nature, not to mention my uncle’s good will. I really don’t know how to thank you, Pym.”

“There’s no need, sir. It was my pleasure. Fox has all the makings of a really good armsman, and from what I’ve seen of the others they should all be fine. Fox knows he can talk to me if he needs to.”

“I have you to thank for that, as well.”

“Oh, he’s his own man. I maybe just speeded things up a little, no use re-inventing the wheel, is there, and I’ve learned a few things, too.” Pym stood up and offered his hand to Ivan. “If I may shake your hand, sir. I’m still proud to know you. You’ll make a fine Count. The Emperor couldn’t ask for better.”

Ivan stood up and returned the handshake with all goodwill. “I’m on my way over to Vorkosigan House. May I offer you a lift?”

Pym let a wicked grin slip. “Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate that. As long as I do the driving.”

He disappeared to the stables to bring a ground car round to the front door before Ivan could reply.

 

Roic ushered them in at Vorkosigan House, acutely aware of Pym’s inspection although the senior armsman confined himself to a brief, “thank you, Roic.” Cordelia was at home, and very shortly Roic announced Ivan to her as she sat in the library reading her hand viewer. She smiled a welcome.

“Ivan! How’s the playboy Count this morning? Have you come to see Aral?”

Ivan winced. “No, ma’am. I came to talk to _you_ , if I may.”

Cordelia discarded her hand viewer. “Oh, dear. This sounds serious. What has Alys done this time?”

He sat down adjacent to her. He didn’t quite know how to start. Blame his mother for all his troubles? No, just tell the truth. “It’s both of us, Aunt. We need your help.”

“Dear God, Ivan.” She reached over to feel his forehead. “Are you running a temperature? You must be delirious. You’ve always taken off in the opposite direction with all despatch when I’ve loomed over the horizon with my advice.”

She was right, of course, but it wasn’t going to help at the moment. He just told her what had happened without laying any blame or trying to justify himself.

She sat and looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “Ivan, in the past, let’s say fifteen years, not counting the last few months, what have you cared about apart from getting laid? And not getting noticed, of course.”

He’d known it was going to be horrible. He hadn’t thought it would be quite _this_ horrible. He couldn’t look at her. He inspected the polish on his boots instead. So what _had_ he cared about since he was fifteen?

“Getting in to the Academy. Ship duty. I didn’t get that. Gregor, Miles, you and Uncle Aral. He never liked _me_ , though. My mother, of course. In no particular order.”

“Aral liked you. You just…frustrated him, I guess.”

“Disappointed him, you mean.”

“Well, possibly, but nothing terminal. He’s very proud of you now, and do you know why that is?”

He dared to look her in the eye. “Because I’ve finally started to do some work?”

“Because, finally, something means more to you than your own self interest.”

He opened his mouth and shut it again.

“You didn’t have to throw yourself on top of Gregor that day in the Great Square, did you?”

“I never even thought about it. He’s _Gregor_.”

“Do you want _me_ to tell you what else you care about?”

That surprised him. There was something else? He nodded.

“You care about honour and justice. You always have.”

“Huh? Surely that’s a given? I’m Vor. Of course I do.”

Cordelia gave him a sad smile. “It took me years to try and get my head around it. I sometimes think I still haven’t got my head around it, but I know this much. It’s _not_ a given, Ivan. Look at Vordrozda. Vorclarence. Vorfolse. Louis Vorbataille. Ges Vorrutyer. Serg Vorbarra.”

He hadn’t thought about that too deeply. “I see what you mean. Vordarian. Marcel Vorevreaux.”

“Vorevreaux? That’s a new one on me, but you get the idea. What you are, kiddo, is _true_ Vor. You, Gregor, Aral, of course, Miles, René Vorbretten, even Dono Vorrutyer and Count Vorhalas.”

Ivan thought about Vorhalas. “I really like him, Count Vorhalas, I mean.”

“So did Aral. He loved his brother, Rulf. They can’t be friends ever again, but he would never call him an enemy. And no one could call Vorhalas anything but true Vor.”

Ivan needed a bit of time to think about all of this, but Cordelia wasn’t finished.

“So, in the past three months, what’s changed? Raine isn’t just a good lay, is she?”

He felt a blush of chagrin start from his neck and flood his face. It flooded right down to his toes. He tried not to cringe. “Aunt Cordelia…you can’t…you can’t talk like that about Raine!”

“No, I see that. You’d flatten any man that said such a thing about her. It’s because you care more about her than yourself now, don’t you? You care about Simon, and Marie, and your District. You care about Etienne Vorinnis and your armsmen. It wasn’t for _your_ benefit that you went back out to Prestwich, was it?”

He was still trying to recover from her comment about Raine. His mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish.

Cordelia pressed her comlink and ordered tea. “We still haven’t got on to the subject of Alys, but you look like you need a drink.”

Ivan profoundly agreed with her. It wasn’t tea he had in mind, though.

Roic rolled in the tea trolley. Before he’d done more than pour two cups the door opened again and Aral Vorkosigan walked into the room. Ivan knew who it was before he even turned round to look. Cordelia’s face lit up with animation and joy as she saw her husband. Ivan leapt to his feet as Cordelia held out her hand to him.

“You’ve woken up, then, love? I didn’t like to disturb you.”

Aral motioned Ivan to sit back down again and leaned down to kiss his wife before he took a seat. Ivan had to look away, grateful for the plate of Ma Kosti’s specials Roic held out to him. The huge armsman was doing his best Pym impression, with no expression on his face at all. The Vorkosigans certainly didn’t believe in a peck on the cheek. Aral at last sat down.

“So, Ivan. Enjoy your party?”

“I had no idea, sir. Gobsmacked doesn’t begin to describe it. You wouldn’t believe what some of them got up to. I thought _I_ pushed the boundaries, but I never behaved like _that_. Thank god for Pym. He confiscated a holovid camera. I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

“Not the man-about-town you fancied yourself?” Aral shot him a wry grin. “Unfortunately I have every idea what that sort of crowd gets up to. We didn’t quite have the range of galactic drugs back in my day, but the vice was there, just the same, and some of it a lot more sinister.”

He paused for thought before he went on. “You made a splash on the news services this morning, but it was all hot air. I’m waiting on the report from Guy Allegre, but naturally he’ll present it to Gregor, first.”

Ivan was well over the gossip holovids. “By Vorrutyer has got the evidence we needed for the drug smuggling. There’s a definite link between Vorevreaux and Vorbataille running drugs out of Jackson’s Whole. The same ship that ran the biocide brought in the drugs, too, but By didn’t get any further with the Vorresiak side of things. General Allegre will be analysing the recordings Major Karasavas co-ordinated. That’s bound to take a day or two.”

Cordelia interrupted. “Ivan actually came here to talk about Alys, Aral. She’s being difficult. It’s very hard for him at the moment.”

Aral kept his face poker straight. “Simon might well be saying the same thing.”

_Dear god, as if Aunt Cordelia wasn’t enough_. Ivan took refuge in his tea. He could just see Roic out of the corner of his eye. The armsman’s expression turned from impassive to glassy-eyed. Cordelia snorted into her cup.

“I’m going to have a talk to her when she gets back. We might have to invite the two of them to Sergyar, Aral, to give Ivan a clear field, but I get the feeling she wants to advise Ekaterin on the wedding.”

“Has Ekaterin _asked_ for any advice?”

“No, but Alys must be at a tremendous loose end right now. Once she’s recovered from the wedding she’s going to have to find a _cause_. We have to make sure it’s not Ekaterin or Marie.”

A little devil prompted Ivan. “We should get her on to sorting out Byerly Vorrutyer. He needs reforming.”

Cordelia disagreed. “Not so much as you might think, Ivan. By tries so hard to appear louche but it’s all an act. He’s as true Vor as you are.”

“Well, if you’re happy to talk to m’mother, I’ll stop worrying about all that. I’m off for an ImpSec course tomorrow so I’ll be out of touch. I don’t suppose Miles has turned anything up?”

Aral shook his head. “Not yet. Count Vorbataille is more co-operative than Vorguriyev was, but he’s trying to protect his son, of course. Miles doesn’t think the Count’s one of the main players.”

“There’s nothing more I can do, then. I won’t take up any more of your time, except to tell you how grateful I am you lent me Pym. He’s made all the difference these past few weeks.”

Cordelia was the one to answer. “I almost regret seconding him to Miles as he was always a favourite. We’re taking Rykov back to Sergyar when we go, so Pym will always be available for advice, if he isn’t off-world on one of Miles’s mad schemes. Good luck on the course, Ivan.”

“Thank you, Aunt Cordelia, but I’m going to enjoy it. I won’t have to make any decisions for a whole week. I’m just going to do what I’m told.”

 

Lying on the floor of the gym at the ImpSec training centre with the wind knocked out of him, Ivan couldn’t think about enjoying himself. He couldn’t think about anything but dragging in a lungful of air before he passed out. At last his diaphragm started working again and he rolled over onto his hands and knees, shaking and trembling and trying not to vomit. The instructor used his plight as a teaching aid.

“Once you’ve immobilised the assailant you can either make it permanent or restrain him. Always remember you can’t fast-penta a corpse. Patril, that was pathetic. Do it again.”

Ivan scrambled to his feet, breathing hard as he faced Devaux across the mat. The weasel was bang up to date on his ImpSec training. It was well over half a year since Ivan had done his last course and his reaction time was sluggish in comparison. His eyes narrowed in concentration. He parried the first blow and got in one of his own before his feet disappeared out from under him. He went down but rolled like lightning out of reach of the killer blow. He sprang back to his feet and they circled each other, looking for an opening. Devaux lunged, Ivan caught him in an arm bar and brought him down.

“OK, leave it there. Better, much better. We’ll have you right by the end of the week. Next pair.”

Ivan and Devaux bowed to each other and collapsed at the side of the mat. Ivan lay back, thanking his lucky stars and Pym as well for the training he’d put in. He was holding his own…just. The course was only in its first day.

He did much better on the defensive flying the next day. He had his cousin Miles and the Dendarii Gorge to thank for that one. It was good to see the way the team meshed, especially flying in formation. That wasn’t something he’d practised much but it really made sense to know how his escort was going to react if they did get into trouble for whatever reason. Sarmiento was the gun flyer out of all of them. Ivan would love to know what he’d been up to, but of course like everything else his past was shrouded in secrecy. He did notice the acknowledgement the trainer gave him, though. It looked like they were very old friends.

On the first two evenings, after the physical activities of the day, there were lectures and strategy discussions. Ivan had never worried too much about how his outer perimeter security operated, but close protection was a different matter. It was actually quite fascinating to see how precise mathematical formulae came in to protection sectors and angles of fire depending on whether one, two or three men protection squads were in operation. The science and analysis had Simon Illyan’s characteristic approach all over it still. It was very thorough; Simon would have thought of everything.

Ivan sat up and took even more notice at the body language sessions on how to spot an assassin. It explained some of Pym’s reactions when he’d been out and about with him. Once they’d had the lectures the last activity before bed was in a virtual reality booth. Gregor had spent some serious marks on those little beauties. Ivan was dead twice before he began to react without second guessing himself. The team scenarios were clever, the way they forced his concentration to just his own sector. He had to rely on his team just as much as they had to rely on him.

He had a smile to himself and a mental fist-pump at the debrief. Sarmiento might be a gun flyer but Ivan had beaten him on three of the scenarios and Driscoll on two of the others. Fox was by far the stand out close protection guard. He’d obviously done just a little more training than the usual Ship Security trooper.

They all went to bed on day two exhausted. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow they were due to do shuttle and space training.

 


	21. Team Building

 

 

It took them half a day just to get into a shuttle. All the emergency drills were done in the securely grounded training module. Ivan remembered failing badly the first time he’d run through an emergency scenario back at the Academy. That yellow armband had been one of his many humiliations back then. They didn’t bother with yellow armbands at ImpSec. Everyone knew when you’d died.

Devaux was slick with the exercises, but there was something very jumpy about him. He looked pale and tense. He managed just fine until it came to bod pod drills, where he excused himself for a moment. Suspicious, Ivan signalled to the trainer and slipped out after him. Around the corner of the building, Devaux was vomiting his guts up. Ivan waited until he had wiped his face with the back of his hand before offering him a water bottle.

“Bad memories?”

Devaux rinsed his mouth and spat. His face looked grey. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought I could handle it. I’m going to have to let you down. You won’t want me now. I can’t get in that bod pod. I…just can’t.”

“That’s not letting me down. That’s letting me know where best to assign you. I presume it’s why ImpSec and you parted company? Like someone else I know, you were never a bloody courier officer, were you?”

“I can’t talk about it.” Devaux had stopped shaking at last. Ivan squeezed his shoulder briefly.

“It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. You’re going to be a very fine armsman with your two feet on the ground, or at the very most in a flyer. I’ll have nineteen others to pick from, eventually, if I do need to go off planet. And I’ll tell you this, between you, me, and that entry hatch over there. Getting into a bod pod is not my idea of fun, either. It’s a perfectly rational fear. It’s only claustrophobia when it’s an _irrational_ fear. You obviously know what to expect. Stay here and get some fresh air. Are you OK with shuttles?”

“Yes, sir. That’s not a problem. Breathing masks, space suits or battle armour, all of those are fine. It’s just those fucking floating coffins.”

“I hear you. I’ll square it with the instructor. Come back in when you can.”

Ivan felt his own moment of panic when he was sealed into one of the personal lifeboats, or bod pods as they all called them. The hair stood up on his arms and neck and his adrenaline system kicked into overdrive. All he wanted to do was run. He screwed his eyes shut and his hands into fists and thought about Raine instead as he forced himself to breathe slowly. Fortunately it only lasted for a few minutes. By the time he was let out Devaux had returned.

“Thank the gods that’s over.”

They broke for lunch shortly after, before lining up for the transport to take them out to the military shuttleport. Time to put all the training into practise. Ivan kept a surreptitious watch on Devaux but as he’d promised the man was fine with the shuttle and the breath mask drills they did on the way up to the orbital station. The trainer for this phase of the course flipped through his hand viewer to check their records.

“All of you here are qualified shuttle pilots. I propose we run though some emergency docking and evacuation drills. None of you need combat training. You’ll leave that to the experts if the case ever arises. We’re more concerned about defensive strategies. You _will_ wear your breath masks in readiness at all times. You will also wear these oximeters.” He paused to toss round some small wristbands looking very much like chronos. “If your oximeter alarm sounds you’ll immediately activate your breath mask before aiding anyone else. Understood?”

He waited until they’d all agreed and then circulated to check each one was working correctly and glowing green. He paused in front of Ivan. “Patril, eh? I had a cadet at the Academy by that name before I moved on. I thought you looked familiar.”

He looked very familiar to Ivan, too. He was the man who’d given him his yellow armband. He tried a tentative smile. “Sergeant Reece. I hope I do better this time round.”

Sergeants were sergeants and they never changed. “Oh, I’m sure you will, Patril. Hard not to, after all.”

 

Simulators couldn’t duplicate weightlessness. They practised all sorts of air lock drills from depressurisation emergencies to casualty evacuation. Ivan’s oximeter alarm sounded twice, both of them expected. What he didn’t like was being chosen as the casualty to be manhandled off the shuttle through the narrow airlock port. It was valid, though, as he was the one the rest of them would be rescuing if push came to shove. All he’d have to do was co-operate and keep his head down. _Or so he thought_. Being strapped to a stretcher when the artificial gravity came back on suddenly was an unusual experience he didn’t really care to repeat. Luckily for him Fox had a hold on the head end when it happened and managed to react just in time to arrest his fall, enough to turn it into a jolt rather than a crash. The feet end of the stretcher hit the ground first.

“Always try to use a _float_ stretcher,” the sergeant instructed with an evil grin. “They’re designed to react to the unexpected. In a situation like this where you have to manually manoeuvre a casualty be prepared for fluctuations in the gravity control. A mass of a hundred kilos smashing to the deck can seriously interfere with your casualty’s prognosis. Don’t expect the weightlessness to do the work for you.” He walked off to chide Harper and Kosa, who were carrying Driscoll.

Fox massaged his shoulder where the joint had nearly been torn out of its socket.

“Thanks for nothing, dipshit,” he muttered, bending over to unlatch the maglocks to release Ivan from his bindings and offer his good arm to help him up.

“Oof. Thanks, Fox. I _knew_ it wasn’t my fault back at the Academy. Reece had it in for me way back then and nothing’s changed. How’s the shoulder?”

“Nothing I can’t live with. I’ve had worse. That one was for a good reason, though.”

Sarmiento, who had dropped Ivan’s feet, recovered his composure. “I’m so sorry, my lord. He caught me completely by surprise. It won’t happen again.”

“We’re all here to learn.” Ivan glowered after the sergeant as he rubbed his lower back. “There are some instructors where the student is important, and there are some instructors where the instructor is important. We’ve figured out which sort _he_ is. I can learn, but he's still ugly. OK, who’s next? Devaux, you can carry Sarmiento’s head, and Fox, you try the feet. None of us are going to risk dropping _you_.” At over six three and at least a hundred plus kilos without the stretcher it would take three or four strong men to lift Fox. He would probably go straight through the deck if they dropped him from any height.

They stayed overnight at the transfer station. There were some shuttle simulators there where the artificial gravity could be adjusted and the practice lasted well into what would have been evening downside. They concentrated on hypothetical security scenarios, mostly hostage situations, so emergency take-offs and landings were the way to go.

When they did finally knock off for a rest the cabins they’d been assigned were tiny.

Fox sniffed. “They’re nothing more than two-man dog boxes.”

Since there were seven of them Ivan had the privilege of having the last one all to himself. It didn’t make much difference.

Driscoll poked his head into the one he had to share with Harper. “Shit. These aren’t much better than the bod pods. I’m not sitting around in here. Who’s for the mess?”

Over a low alcohol beer, one per man per day only, as per the regs, an informal de-brief sprang up amongst themselves. Ivan sat back and listened, mostly. It was the first chance he’d really had to see them all interacting in a social format, without the added input from Pym, Karasavas and Nicolaides. These were going to be _his_ armsmen, sworn to him until death. He was happy with all of them. It remained to be seen if they were finally going to be happy with him. Fox was the natural leader. He didn’t say a great deal, but what he did say was never foolish. Kosa was the comedian, Harper and Driscoll the tough guys and Sarmiento the charmer. No doubt there’d be a Ma Sarmiento around in very short order, or two if he could get away with it. Ivan vaguely remembered a story Miles had told him about one of Count Piotr’s armsmen, who’d had a wife in Vorbarr Sultana and another in Vorkosigan Surleau. Sarmiento would never manage something like that these days, when everyone had access to a comconsole. Devaux…Devaux was the dark horse. He was driven by his demons, but Gregor had recommended Devaux. He’d given a great service to the Imperium, Ivan was certain. Devaux wouldn’t let him down.

Getting back downside was going to be fun. There was a separate ImpSec pilot’s course practising tactical take off and docking; Ivan’s men were going to take a turn each returning a shuttle. Fox left first.

“See you downside, my lord. Bear in mind what my first instructor told me, _truly superior pilots are those who use their superior judgment to avoid those situations where they might have to use their superior skills.”_

Ivan laughed. “Very true. That’s been one of my principal guiding maxims for years. Just substitute _survivor_ for pilot. See you downside, Fox.”

The instructor didn’t turn very pale, nor did he grab for the controls as they screamed in for a hot landing. Ivan judged the retros to perfection and they landed without so much as a bump.

“Just like driving a troika. Once you’ve got the knack you’ve always got it,” he remarked to no one in particular. “Second in my course at the Academy.” Under his breath he added, “Miles didn’t beat me at that one.”

They all made it down more or less smoothly; Sarmiento very smoothly and Driscoll quite a bit less so. He looked a bit shame-faced as he exited his shuttle, in contrast to his instructor who staggered off to check his back teeth. Driscoll walked over to join the others.

“Oops.”

“Well, you didn’t break anything and you walked away, so it’s all good.” Ivan made another mental note for his duty rosters.

It may have been a coincidence but the rest of the day was spent learning advanced first aid, right down to emergency cryo-prep procedures, thankfully on a long-suffering dummy. The cryochamber was the real thing, though. It made Ivan fell quite ill to have such a close-up and personal demonstration of what both Miles and Etienne Vorinnis had been through. The claustrophobic feeling near it was almost overwhelming, although in the real world claustrophobia would be the least of his worries if he needed one of these. It was one galactic miracle of technology he really did _not_ want to experience for himself. His major aim in to life was to die like old General Count Vorkosigan, in his nineties and in his bed. Preferably with someone to share the bed with, too. Someone just like Raine.

Devaux was faultless with the drill, but Ivan watched as he disappeared round the back of the building again once he’d completed his turn. He’d been there and done that, obviously. Whatever the incident was Devaux had been involved in, it was costing him.

They had an early night, most of them turning in after dinner. With only three days left of the course Ivan didn’t want anyone backing out now, so he slipped round to Devaux’s bunk for a quiet word. The man was sitting there on the side of the bed, head bowed over his clasped hands. He’d got half way through unfastening his boots. He didn’t notice Ivan, which was pretty telling for an ex-ImpSec agent. His thoughts were light-years away.

“We’re through the worst of it now.” Ivan stood back and spoke quietly so as not to startle him. He’d startled Miles once and knew what could happen.

Devaux looked up sharply, started to leap to his feet but sank back, fighting for control. “I doubt I’ll ever be through the worst of it,” he said. “The nights are by far the hardest.”

“OK, so we can work around that. Night duty is never popular, but you might prefer it until you get yourself on a more even keel. It can take years.”

“Night duty? I hadn’t thought of that. Would I be on my own?”

“While I’ve only got six of you, yes. Is that a problem?”

Devaux shook his head. “No, that’s perfect. I don’t want to have to look out for anyone else’s back on patrol. That’s how I knew about the cryochamber.”

“Yes, I’d worked that one out.”

They were silent for a moment or two. Devaux went on.

“You know, when we were all kids, how Vorthalia the Bold saved us all from Cetagandans under the bed?”

“Yeah. My cousin usually had me go looking for them. He was always Vorthalia.”

‘Well, Vorthalia is a social construct. The Cetagandans are real.”

There wasn’t much of an answer to that one. It was the truth, after all. Devaux had survived, though.

“We’ll be worrying about enemies much closer to home. Crazy gossip reporters. Megalomaniac Counts. Muggers. Kidnappers. Extortionists. Fortune-hunters. Vor dragons. Regular, every day criminals like drug dealers.”

Devaux broke into just-not-quite-hysterical laughter. “Vor dragons. I hadn’t thought of that one.”

“Well, I have, and often. They’re _scary_. It’s going to be a luxury having six big strong men protecting me from them. What do you say?”

Ivan held out his hand. Devaux shook it firmly. “I say bring ‘em on, my lord.”

They were back in the gym for the next two days, with general fitness programs, refining hand-to-hand combat skills and learning a few neat team-work drills in the morning, and running through signals and communications in the afternoon. Reading people really was an art-form, both their deliberate and their unconscious body language. Ivan learned five different ways to say _help_ , ranging from _save me from this stuffy old bore_ through to _help, imminent death, no shit,_ to _help is coming, hang on_. He might have to adapt one specially for Devaux. _Help, Vor Dragon approaching_.

On their final day they headed out to the firing range. Simulators were no fun. They’d all been brought up on shoot-em-up simulator games in one form or another. Live firing was a different matter altogether. Simulators weren’t very good when it came to smells. Plasma arcs had that ozone smell to them that couldn’t be mistaken. It had been there when Gregor’s armsmen had fired over his head at the Great Square. He hadn’t realised at the time, but it all came back to him in a hurry.

Ivan re-qualified on his personal stunner every year, so that proved to be no difficulty. Ops officers generally didn’t carry around needlers, plasma arcs or nerve disruptors, a regulation for which he was very grateful. There's only been the once someone had pointed a needler at him in anger. Count Vordrozda had soon realised the error of doing something like that in the Emperor's presence. He’d been faced with the wrong end of a nerve disruptor twice, back on Earth, neither of which gave him pleasant dreams, and he’d ducked under plasma arc fire, but all those weapons were out there and he needed to be able to use them. He wouldn’t hesitate if it meant Gregor’s safety. He didn’t want his armsmen hesitating either, if his family was concerned. They were all very good. There wasn’t much to speak of between them, although Harper looked to have had sniper training at some stage. Down to a man they were meticulous with safety, another good thing and not always a given.

When they finally reached the last debrief, Ivan was well-satisfied with their week. They’d learned to work together, which had been his primary aim all along. Before they all headed for the transport back to Vorbarr Sultana he handed round some flimsies.

“I'd like you all to study these carefully. Tomorrow we’ll transport in any relations you want at the ceremony, try on your liveries which should be waiting for you, and the next day I’ll take your oaths. I hardly need remind you they’re lifetime oaths, so I want you to be very sure. _I’m_ very sure I want you all. This is a contract of employment, of sorts. It spells things out, but the actual contract is your hands between mine and your breath in your word. I’ll be very proud if you agree to serve me. Thanks, everyone. We should be home in time for a Ma Belka supper. Every job has its perks, after all.”

Tired but happy, Ivan relaxed and laid his head back against the padded headrest of the transporter as they flew back to Vorbarr Sultana from the firing range. His good mood lasted all the way to his front door, where Nicolaides waited to let them in. There was a very neutral expression on his face that didn’t fool Ivan for an instant. He felt his spirits drop somewhere into his boots.

“What’s happened now?”

“You have several messages on your comconsole, sir. Lord Nigel Vorolney has called four times regarding the return of his holovid camera, Lord Vorbohn the younger has called requesting an interview concerning a complaint made to him by the father of Mademoiselle Evelina Vortien and Count Vorhalas has requested an interview with you at Vorhalas House at your earliest convenience.”

“So not much, then, apart from Vorhalas. I wonder what he wants. They can all wait until tomorrow.”

“On a more social front, Lady Alys Vorpatril left a message that her party has returned to Vorbarr Sultana, there have been at last count one hundred and eighty-two messages of thanks from guests at the party who enjoyed a wonderful time, and Byerly Vorrutyer will be calling tomorrow with his plans for redecorating the house. He also asked me to tell you he has three inquiries for other work.”

“Anything else?”

Nicolaides allowed himself to smile. “I took it upon myself to refuse on your behalf three requests for interviews from members of the press. I trust I did the right thing?”

“Absolutely. No interviews with the press. Is there still an uproar about the party?”

“They’re trying very hard to sustain the moral outrage but the chat programs have apparently had as many callers complimenting you as deploring your behaviour, so Helen tells me.”

There was a devil dancing in his secretary’s eye as he continued. “Speculation on your marriage is rife, you get your hair cut at Francesco’s in the Caravanserai and you are the secret father of three young hopefuls, from three different mothers, I might add. _Your_ father was in fact the Cetagandan ambassador, which explains your good looks, although it has since been pointed out that Barrayar didn’t _have_ a Cetagandan ambassador at the time of your conception, and Lady Alys had exerted her hypnotic influence over the Emperor for years to prevent him marrying and so advance your prospects. She fled the capital in humiliation when her plot was overturned. …That was all in the latest editions of the gossip magazines. Simon Illyan will be dealing with the slurs on Lady Alys’s character.”

Ivan just shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of Francesco’s. Are they any good?”

“Francesco seems to think so. He paid for the advert, after all. Your supper is waiting for you in the dining room when you’re ready, sir.”

“Now you’re talking. Lead the way!” Ivan let the rest wash over him. A good meal, a good bottle and a good night’s rest were all he was going to worry about right now.

 


	22. Breakfast and lunch

 

 

It had rained briefly overnight, refreshing the parks and gardens, but when Ivan and his band set out for their early morning run the light was golden and the sky clear. The second moon still had not set and its crescent descending over the Vorbarr Sultana observatory made the dome look like some ancient Earth palace seen in a book of fairy tales. It was going to be another hot day in an eventful summer.

They were back at the house by 0700 hours. Ivan was washed, dressed, combed and ready to go by 0730, without greatly missing his valet at all. Fox brought the ground car to the main door and they headed out into the morning traffic. It was only a short drive and it wasn’t long before they’d pulled up in an empty parking spot only two slots along from his mother’s entry door.

“Why don’t you come in with me, Fox?” Ivan asked. “You haven’t seen Marie yet, have you?”

“I don’t think she’ll remember me, sir,” he answered. “It’s well over a year since Tom and I were on leave together, but I’d love to see her. She looked like her mother even then.”

He sounded wistful. Ivan could just remember Anna Watson as a very pretty woman, if strained and overly thin when he’d seen her that one time. Perhaps Fox had been envious of his friend’s good luck. Perhaps he was just sorry for their deaths. It was all water under the bridge now, though.

They headed through the foyer and up the lift tube without any delay. Christos let them in the front door and smiled a welcome. He looked like he’d enjoyed a relaxing holiday in the sun, too, with his skin tanned and his face de-stressed.

“My lord Count.” He bowed Ivan in. “It’s good to see you again. Someone has counted down to eight—”

“My Ivan!” It was more of a scream than anything else. Christos gave up on what he was about to say as Marie barrelled across the hallway at a dead run and hurled herself at Ivan’s knees. Fox steadied him from behind as he took a hasty step back to recover his balance. Marie was dressed in a pale pink dressing gown and bare feet, her hair loosely pulled back into a pony tail but escaping every which way. She burst into tears as he pulled her up into his arms. He couldn’t make out a word she said as she sobbed into the corner of his neck and shoulder.

“Whoa! Steady on. It’s not that bad, is it? Here, give me a kiss and let me look at you.”

“I’m so happeee.”

At least, that’s what he thought she’d said. It took a few moments before she stopped half strangling him and he could get her to pull back just a little. Christos and Fox looked on, broad grins on their faces.

“You’re going to get my neck all wet, and I already had a shower this morning.” He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here, you’d better dry it for me. Let’s go and sit down and you can tell me about your holiday.”

As he walked over to her bedroom he turned to look at Christos. “This is Marcus Fox, Christos. He’s going to be my armsman. We haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I’ll see to it straight away, sir.” Christos shook hands with Fox. “Mademoiselle Marie didn’t want to have breakfast until you arrived. It should be ready in about ten minutes, if that would suit?”

“In that case if she hasn’t eaten we’ll all just sit down together. Don’t go to extra trouble. What are we having? Groats?”

“Yes, sir, and spiced bread. If you’d like something more substantial that’s no problem.”

“No, groats is fine. OK with you, Fox?”

“Certainly, sir. Anything.”

Ivan cuddled Marie. “Honey, do you remember who this is? You’ve seen him before.”

She looked doubtfully at the tall man. “He’s not the man who brought me Steggy. He’s not big enough.”

Ivan smiled as he remembered Roic’s dismay at being asked to hand deliver a toy stegosaurus, and Pym’s adroit way of handing over the task to him in the first place.

“No, earlier than that, when you were living with your Ma and Da.”

Marie tipped her head to one side. Her frown cleared. “Are you _Markie?_ I drew a picture of you.”

Fox came over to say hello. “I didn’t think you’d remember. We went to the park with the lake—”

“And you and Da raced in the little boats and Da nearly fell in. He got wet.”

“That’s right. Your Ma said he was a show-off.”

“And you were a bigger one! I rode in the boat with you and Ma went with Da, but _only_ if he didn’t tip her in.” She stopped suddenly. “I live with My Ivan, now, though, because my Ma died, and with Mamie and Papi Simon, too.”

Her tears had completely dried up, but she still clung fiercely to Ivan, not willing to let him get away again.

“Do you want to show me your surprise, before breakfast is ready?”

She shook her head. “I can’t, because I need Papi Simon. I am _on no account_ to go on my own.”

He could just hear him in her voice, issuing one of his strict instructions that would have made a grown man quail in his boots. The surprise was somewhere else, then. He’d just have to wait.

The man himself walked into the hall just then, fresh from a shower and dressed in old workout knits. No one would have guessed he’d been the watchdog of the Imperium for over thirty years.

“Ivan! Good to see you. Marie found you, then. I wondered what the scream was.”

Ivan shook his hand. “Good morning, sir. This is Marcus Fox. I’ll be taking his oath as armsman tomorrow.”

Simon Illyan gave Fox a very thorough scrutiny. It was easier to imagine him as the bogey man of all their childhoods when he had _that_ look on his face. Fox stood up to it very well.

“It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

Simon relaxed. “And you, Fox.”

“Sergeant Fox was a colleague of Marie’s Da, Simon. They served on the _Admiral Kanzian_ together. Marie remembers him.”

“Then you’re doubly welcome, Fox.” Simon turned back to Ivan. “Your mother will be out _shortly,_ or so she says, so we won’t wait breakfast for her as we seem to disagree on the definition of _shortly_. If we can persuade Marie to let go of your neck we can all sit down and catch up.”

Marie had polished off a large bowl of groats and was making inroads on a second piece of spiced bread by the time Lady Alys made her entrance. She looked much the same as always, but with her hair dressed in a simpler style than Ivan was used to seeing. He stood up and crossed round the table to give her a hug.

“Mamère. Long time no see.”

Alys hugged him back, then reached up to cup his face in her hands. She searched his expression for a few moments. “All seems well with you, Ivan. You actually look fitter than I remember. I was so frightened when word came through from Prestwich.”

“We have Captain Fenerty to thank for me standing here. He was one of Simon’s men.”

“I remember Fenerty,” Simon said. “No sense of humour. Just what ImpSec needed, in fact. I was sorry to hear what happened.”

Ivan introduced Fox and explained his connection. Alys smiled a gracious welcome and sat down at the table with a cup of hot tea. She declined any food.

“Please, continue with your breakfasts. Has Marie told you what she and Simon have been up to, Ivan?”

“It’s a surprise, Mamie!” Marie sounded horrified. “He doesn’t know _anything_.”

Alys gave her a small smile. “It must be why you’re sitting at the table in your dressing gown, though, and your Papi Simon is wearing those clothes I thought we’d given to the shelter.”

She kept her face perfectly straight. Simon crossed his arms in defiance. “The shelter didn’t want these. Besides, this is my favourite workout gear. It suits me.”

“Yes, it probably suited Emperor Ezar to issue it to you, as well.”

It was time for Ivan to divert the conversation. “I’m dying to find out what my surprise is. When are you going to show me?”

Marie looked at Papi Simon. “Can we go now?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s just downstairs. Did you want to come, Alys?”

She declined. “No, you boys can have your treat together. I have hours of correspondence to catch up on, and I’m due to see Laisa at The Residence at 1500 hours.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then. Marie, you need something on your feet and something for your hair. Two minutes. March!”

Giggling, Marie excused herself from the table and raced off to her room, calling for Ma McIver, her nanny. Ivan sat back to finish his coffee. He didn’t quite like the amused expression on Simon’s face as he watched her departure.

“You haven’t been teaching her how to fire a stunner, have you?”

“No, we’ll leave that to Drou, I think. She did a fine job with her girls, if Olivia was anything to judge by.”

“Olivia didn’t even need a stunner when she dealt with Goff, but the other two never knew what hit them. I’m not so sure I want Marie trying that sort of stuff just at present, though. Let her grow up a little bit.”

“You don’t have to worry. It’s nothing like that. Ah, here she is. Let’s go.”

Marie had acquired a pair of fluoro pink sandals and a white…swimming cap. _Aha!_

There was a fully equipped gym and workout area on the first level, complete with a twenty metre lap pool. Now that the usual customers had all gone to work it was quiet and peaceful. Marie kicked off her sandals and peeled off her dressing gown to reveal a rose pink swimsuit, while Simon stripped down to a pair of navy blue swim shorts.

“Watch _me_ , My Ivan,” Marie called over her shoulder. Ivan had been looking at Simon’s torso and the interesting variety of old scars displayed there, almost enough to rival Miles’s collection, but he turned his attention to Marie, who executed a neat safety jump into the pool, feet first and body straight. She kicked off from the side and struck out confidently for Simon, who had slipped into the water at the other end of the pool. The stroke wasn’t perfect but Ivan had to remind himself she was only six years old. She was gasping and nearly as pink as her costume by the time she reached Simon, but she had swum the whole twenty metres without stopping. Ivan and Fox both broke into applause.

“Way to go, Marie! That’s fantastic! Did Papi Simon teach you all of that, or could you swim before?”

Marie had to hang on to Simon as the water would have been over her head if she’d tried to stand on her own.

“No, I couldn’t swim at all. Papi said everyone needs to be able to save themselves from anything, like when Da nearly fell out of the boat, so we’ve been learning every day while Mamie had a rest. She was very tired on our holiday, you know. She should have gone to bed early, like me, but she never did.”

“How about a race, Marie?” Simon interrupted before Ivan could reply to that one. “I’ll count to twenty.”

He nearly overhauled her in three long strokes, almost treading water to keep pace with her on the way back. They did some duck diving, and kicking practice, then Ivan found a stack of fluffy towels near the door and rolled her up in one while Simon cracked out a few lengths of his own. Marie commented on his turns.

“I’m not allowed to do tumble turns yet. Papi is going to let me when I can do the length in ten strokes. He just needs five.”

“I think he’s a very good teacher, don’t you?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. He said he’ll teach me some other good ways to save myself when I get a bit bigger, too. Like anyone who comes to get me from school has to have a password.”

Ivan looked at Fox over the top of Marie’s head. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or appalled.

Fox just shrugged. “She’d have needed all of that and more if she grew up in Prestwich. Here…,” he picked her up and tickled her, “…here she’ll have me and nineteen others looking out for her, won’t she? God help the first boyfriend.”

 

They arranged very amicably for Marie and Ma McIver to move into Voralys House for a month or two with Papi Simon coming to take Marie for swimming lessons until school started again. Ivan got the impression he would have been very happy to move into Voralys House permanently. His mother was a different story.

“Your wife won’t want to have me around under her feet, Ivan. It just wouldn’t work. I didn’t have a mother-in-law to worry about when I was first married.”

“You didn’t _have_ a mother-in-law. She’d been dead for thirty-odd years. If Raine agrees to marry me _her_ mother and Admiral Waleska will be living with us when they’re in town. You’ll have a completely private suite, and you can bring Christos, and your dresser. It would work. I know it would.”

“I really don’t think you know anything, Ivan. Let’s give matters a while to settle down. We’re going to be talking to Cordelia shortly. She might tell you about living with _her_ father-in-law.”

“Now, you know that’s not a fair comparison, Mamère. Anyone would have had a dreadful time living with that old bandit. He scared me witless.”

He’d have to be happy with Marie living with him for a while. Better quit while he was ahead.

He looked at his chrono. “Places to go and people to see. I hope you’re able to come to the armsman ceremony tomorrow. It would be a good time for Marie to move in, as well. Her room’s all ready. I’d certainly like her there at the ceremony, please, even if Christos has to drop her off.”

Alys smiled one of her enigmatic, try-and-guess-what-I’m-thinking smiles. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ivan. By the way, Empress Laisa and I are going to be starting on the arrangements for the Birthday ball. Will Raine be back for that, do you know?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I really hope so. She’s been gone too long already. I really miss her.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

No, his mother was wrong there. Absence made the wanting stronger, though. “What’s fonder than absolute love? She’s the one, Mamère. If she doesn’t come back—” He couldn’t finish the sentence because he couldn’t finish the thought. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mamère.”

“Don’t forget you’ll have to present your District’s tribute at the Birthday. It’ll take time to organise.”

“No Mamère.” _Yes Mamère. Three bags full_ , _Mamère_ . But that’s what mothers were for, nagging.

With one last cuddle and kiss goodbye for Marie and a promise to see her the next day, Ivan headed off. He got Fox to drop him at Vorhalas House before he sent him home to try on his livery with the others. One of the Vorhalas armsmen could organise an auto cab for him if it was a quick visit to have his ears boxed, or Fox could come back later if he stayed for any length of time to talk. It all depended on what the old devil wanted, of course.

Ivan was quite surprised not to feel nervous as he followed the armsman to Count Vorhalas’s study. What was the worst thing that could happen to him, after all? Apart from an armsman with a plasma arc, of course, but Ivan doubted it would sink to _that_. Vorhalas stood up to shake his hand.

“Voralys. Good of you to come round so promptly. Your man told me you were on a training course.”

“Yes, Count. I arrived back in town last night.”

“Sit down, sit down. Coffee, or tea? I think it’s a mite too early for anything stronger.”

Ivan grinned at him. “Tea, please. Do I _need_ anything stronger?”

The old man barked a laugh. “I have no right to haul you up on my carpet for a reprimand. I hear carpet’s in a bit of short supply at your place though.”

How the devil had he heard about that? Ivan stirred in his seat as the armsman poured him a cup of tea. Vorhalas took pity on him. “You haven’t seen any of the news reports, have you?”

This was getting beyond a joke. “News reports about my _carpet_ , sir? Surely there are better things to report on?”

“You’ll learn, Voralys. The speculation varied from whether there was a body rolled up inside it, to it was impossible to get all the traces of drugs out of it before the Municipal Guard got there.”

Ivan hoped to god he didn’t know what was _actually_ on the carpet, apart from spilled wine and vomit and whatever had been handy for a lubricant. Vorhalas flicked on his comconsole and found a picture of two workmen carrying the rolled carpet to a lift van.

“ _Shit!_ I beg your pardon, sir, but honestly! How ridiculous is that? They must be absolutely stalking the place.”

“And going through the rubbish if they get half a chance, not to mention planting moles in your household staff, interviewing all your long lost relatives and old girlfriends, or boyfriends if they can find them, or even invent them. Byerly Vorrutyer will be their next target.”

Now he really did laugh. “By? Good luck with that one. By and I know exactly how we stand with each other, and it’s not like _that_. He’s going to be redecorating the place for me, though. I’m giving him an honest job to do. The ballroom looked wonderful when he’d finished with it.”

The count sipped his tea. “I didn’t really ask you to come here to talk about carpet and curtains, Voralys.”

“I didn’t think you would, sir. It’s obviously more serious.”

“Count Vormoncrief is planning to table a motion of censure at the next Council of Counts. He’ll be positing that you’re not fit for your position.”

The old stuffed shirt had never wanted him to be appointed in the first place. Ivan knew he was an opponent, if not an outright enemy.

“What, because of one party? What can he actually do about it? It’s hardly grounds for attainder.”

“He can make your life quite uncomfortable for you, if you let him. His encouragement might be all some of the more unstable members of society need to, how shall we put it, seek to purify the Barrayaran genome.”

“I’ve been a bit too close to one of the more unstable members of society just recently,” Ivan acknowledged. “I wouldn’t want that happening again.”

“Vormoncrief is fool and a bully, but he has significant influence. I’m prepared to do what I can to mitigate his bluster. It’s not in the best interests of the Imperium to introduce instability just now while we try to come to terms with the new Komarran leverage on the status quo.”

“The _status quo ante matrimonium_? There’s no chance of Gregor’s marriage not changing things. I, for one, am utterly delighted. It’s going to be even better once he starts cooking a tribe of little Vorbarras. I think about six should do it.”

“Until then, there has been no change in the line of inheritance. The Counts will never accept a five-eights Betan as Emperor. If anything happened to you the result would be civil war. _Again_.”

“The five-eights Betan wants the Imperium even less than _I_ do, and that’s hard to imagine, but I do concede your point. You’re trying to tell me I should stay squeaky clean and keep my head on my shoulders.”

Vorhalas shook his head. “No, it’s not that at all. You’re free to do what you like with your personal life. I simply don’t think you did do what you wanted. That party was the result of an outside influence. It wasn’t your kind of thing at all.”

Ivan got his point.

“You’re worried that I’m going to be led by the nose by that five-eights Betan we just mentioned.”

“I warned you about them. Especially the quarter Betan who is even more expert at running the show.”

Ivan sucked in a deep breath. How much of this was the old rivalry, and how much a genuine concern for him?

“All I can tell you, Count, is that the idea for the party did not come from either of the Vorkosigans, and you are correct in assuming there was a motive for it.”

Count Vorhalas sat back in his chair. “I don’t need to know anything more. I’m surprised the Emperor would be willing to expose you to so much censure, but the stakes must be very high. He never does anything lightly.”

Ivan knew he was treading on dangerous ground. “I’ve been a donkey for close to thirty years. There’s nothing much different in being an Imperial donkey, but it’s something I want settled as badly as he does, sir. As you said, it’s not in the best interests of the Imperium to introduce instability at the moment. And this thing I’m not prepared to talk about might just capsize it.”

Vorhalas didn’t turn a hair. “Very well. I propose we go and have a spot of lunch. Shoko’s should do it. I’ll have the ground car brought round. Happy to drop you at Voralys House afterwards, and my armsmen should be good enough for the both of us.”

The thought of his cousin’s face when he heard Ivan had been lunching in public with Vorhalas sealed the deal even as Ivan appreciated what the Count wanted to do for him. The imprimatur of the count’s approval should give Vormoncrief cause to stop and think.

“Only if I do the buying. Count. Fair’s fair, after all.”

 

 


	23. High theatre and high drama

 

 

“I, Marcus Taylor Fox, take service under Count Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys as an Armsman simple, and will hold him as my liege commander until my death or his releases me.”

There was a deep silence in the ballroom of Voralys House as the first of Ivan’s armsmen knelt and made his oath. Ivan had never closed his hands around another’s like this, or felt the man’s word not just in his hands and in his breath, but from his heart and in his eyes as well. He had to calm his own breathing before he could reply.

“I, Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys, vassal secundus to Gregor Vorbarra, do accept your oath, and pledge you the protection of a liege commander; this by my word as Voralys.”

It seemed quite strange to be accepting oaths from men in their shirtsleeves, spotless and crisply ironed as they were, but then again he’d given his oath to his Emperor in old ship knits and bare feet. It wasn’t about the show, it was about the sentiment. A lesser but still significant part of the ceremony occurred afterwards as each man marched over to what would have been, in other Districts, a senior armsman holding his tunic and helping him to dress. Ivan had no senior armsmen. Until he did each man had a member of his family to help him. Fox had no family so Helen and Philip Nicolaides stood in to assist.

Ivan had invited Pym to the ceremony but he fully understood when he had respectfully and regretfully declined.

“It’s a District matter, Count. It wouldn’t be right for me to attend. I’d be happy to raise a glass to them, afterwards, though.” Pym would be along later for the party.

One quiet and respectful presence in the corner of the room not a District man was Byerly Vorrutyer. He had volunteered to take holovids of the ceremony. That way they could be certain none of the pictures would leak. By was positively sombre, for him, in a plain dark blue suit. Apart from his hairstyle which no one could call conservative, one other aspect of his personality quirked out in his cufflinks, glittering brightly in the light of the chandeliers. He’d chosen silver oak leaves.

The six men lined up at last, resplendent in their dark blue and silver uniforms. The design was perfect and the embroidery as beautiful as ever. Ivan really didn’t want to think about the cost of them but there was no use skimping on something like this. He was very glad he’d gone with black boots. They looked just right. Byerly fluttered around like a proud mother hen as he took vids of the group as a whole, and then each man with his Count and with his family, the Voralys standard as a background. By also took a variety of shots of Ivan on his own, for future use in District offices and schools.

Marie had been as quiet as a mouse, standing between Lady Alys and Simon Illyan. She waited for Ivan to call her over.

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart! What did you think about all that?”

She curtsied in front of him, holding out her skirts with a finger and thumb on each side. Wonder of wonders, she wasn’t wearing pink today. Her dress was white with dark blue braid trimming. Now that she was close he could see the braid had a self-woven pattern of acorns and oak leaves. _Very nice touch, Mamère._

“My lord Count.” She giggled. “Mamie showed me how to do that, and what to say. She said you’re very important, but I like My Ivan better.”

Ivan bowed formally. “Mademoiselle Marie, welcome back to Voralys House. I’ll always be My Ivan for you. That was an excellent curtsey.”

By took a few shots of the two of them together as the family groups began to break up into general circulation as the armsmen introduced their families around to the others. Ma Belka, who had dashed up from the kitchens to watch the ceremony, bustled away again to start serving trays of food. Helen and Philip Nicolaides and Christos good naturedly stood in as servers, and even Mikhail Karasavas donned a white jacket and brought round trays of drinks. Ivan tried to stop him, but Karasavas was quite happy.

“I need to know what it’s like when I order other men to do this, my lord Count. No job is too menial in the Emperor’s service.” He lowered his voice. “And _that_ is Simon Illyan!”

Ivan whispered back “I know. Scary, isn’t it?”

A sudden thought struck him. “Mikhail, when is your twenty up? Do you plan to continue?”

“I have another eighteen months, sir. My wife and I have decided to go ahead with a third child. We’re…undecided what I should do next. She’s not very happy with me doing more fieldwork, and I’m not so sure a desk in Cockroach Central would suit me. I need to discuss things with my superiors. My last performance review was very positive.”

“I see. Well, no pressure, but you have a guaranteed job if you do decide to look elsewhere. I’ve really got used to your friendship. I hope I’ll always have that, no matter what you decide to do.”

Karasavas stood very quietly for a moment. “Thank you, Count. That means a very great deal to me. I’ll be sure to tell my wife. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if Captain Illyan would like a drink.”

Karasavas would be moving back to the District very shortly, now that Ivan’s ImpSec body guards were no longer required, apart from the cover his other position had always needed. Guy Allegre might even move him on to a new position. That would be a blow, with Vorberg still away on Komarr with Raine. …He’d have some stories when he got back.

There was a lull as conversation flowed past him for the moment. Ivan took his glass of wine and sat at a little table at the side of the room, watching. The ceremony had had a deeply sobering effect on him. Not that there’d been a chance before, but after this, with his six sworn men and more to come, there really was no turning back now. He was set on an irrevocable path; politics and administration, sorting out other people’s problems until the day he died. He took a sip of wine and remembered twenty year old Ivan hoping desperately for ship duty. It was funny the way things turned out. If he hadn’t been so disappointed… He wouldn’t have been running round Vorbarr Sultana like a modern day Lothario if he’d been working his way up to ship’s captain, that’s for sure. But then, he wouldn’t have met quite a few really nice people, either. People like Donna Vorrutyer, for instance. It hadn’t been all bad, but still…

Thirty-and-a-bit year old Ivan swallowed the rest of his glass. _Right_. He’d got a job the Emperor wanted him to do. He was just going to have to get on with it. And there were perks, after all.

By appeared at his elbow. “It’s not like you to look melancholy, Ivan. Somebody walk over your grave?”

Ivan jumped to his feet. “Nobody died, By. I was just thinking. You’re probably not used to seeing me do that. It’s funny how things turn out, sometimes.”

It was By’s turn to examine the contents of his glass. “Yes, you’re right there. Who’d have thought I’d ever have a roof over my head and money in the bank? Not much money, mind you. You’re a miserly bugger, aren’t you, Voralys? I should have held out for double.”

By was never going to change much. Ivan clapped him on the shoulder as he tried to shake off his mood. “Onwards and upwards, By. Onwards and upwards.”

Ivan noticed Marcus Fox listen to something on his wristcom and disappear from the room, but it was only to fetch Pym, arriving as promised to help celebrate. He’d turned out in his dress livery, very fitting for the occasion.

“Count Vorkosigan sends his very good wishes, sir,” he said to Ivan, “and to let you know Lord Vorkosigan is back in town, chewing nails and spitting rust as he usually does when things don’t go his way. There’s nothing to report.”

“Damn! Miles must be losing his touch.” Double damn, because Raine wasn’t going to come back until it was safe.

Pym went the rounds of the room, shaking hands with each of the armsmen. Ivan almost didn’t notice Enzo Devaux walk across the room to him. He was barely a metre away when he registered his presence.

“Armsman! How goes it? That livery suits you.”

“It suits me very well, sir. May I present my parents, Emile and Josephine Devaux?”

Ivan shook hands and smiled. Devaux’s parents looked nervous, but proud of their son. Josephine squeezed his hand before she let go.

“I am so thankful my Enzo found work with you, my lord Count. He’s happier than we have seen him in months. Since, well, since he came home.”

“I’m very thankful to have found _him_ , Madame,” Ivan reassured her. “He was recommended to me by Emperor Gregor himself. I could hardly ask for more.”

It had all gone well. Ivan found Marie at last, while Lady Alys and Simon were talking to Mikhail Karasavas, and took her off to show her the new bedroom he’d had decorated, with Ma McIver right next door and his own suite only round the corner.

“Now mind you ask Ma McIver first before you come in to my room, or just knock, because the armsmen are there to guard me and they might get a shock.”

“I have to knock on Mamie’s door and wait to come in, if it’s closed, because sometimes people wish to be private, and it isn’t polite to burst in.”

“That’s it exactly. I don’t want you to know I snore.”

Another one of her gurgles of laughter broke out. “You can’t snore any worse than Christos.”

“We’ll just keep that a secret, honey, because it’s not nice to talk about servants when they can’t say anything back.”

Marie looked puzzled. “He’s not a servant, My Ivan. He’s my friend.”

There was nothing to say to that. He just ruffled her hair

She was soon distracted by her own writing desk, with her drawing pad and box of colouring wands already installed.

“Why don’t you stay here and settle in. I’ll be right back downstairs if you want me, but call Ma McIver first, as we don’t want you to get lost. It’s a big house.”

Marie only half heard him as she pulled a sheet of paper off her pad.

Back downstairs only Simon and his mother remained, if he didn’t count By. By was almost part of the furniture these days. He wouldn’t go home until all the bottles were empty and the plates bare.

“So, Mamère, it went well, don’t you think?”

She paused to smooth down her skirt. “Yes, Ivan, it all went very well today. I was very proud and your father would have been, too.”

“That was a beautiful dress you bought for Marie.”

“Thank you. It seemed fitting. I was lucky to find the braid. There’s a delightful little shop in Vandeville, of all places. Marie loves her room. You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble.”

“Of course I have. I want her to be happy.”

“You’ll have to make sure you don’t spoil her though. She has to have limits. Simon is so good with her. She always listens to what he says.”

“I noticed that this morning. What time did you want to pick her up for her lesson, sir?”

Simon looked from Ivan to Alys and back to Ivan. “Being so polite to each other is nearly as bad as the fighting was, you know. Alys, you’re not talking to the second equerry to the Cetagandan ambassador now. Ivan’s your son.”

Her eyes snapped as she gave Simon a withering stare. “Yes, he’s _my_ son.”

The air could have been cut with a knife. Were they going to fight, over him? That wasn’t acceptable, not on any level. Before he could act, though, Simon rose to his feet. The temperature dropped a good ten degrees, it seemed like. This wasn’t Simon any more, this was Captain Illyan; Captain Illyan on a very bad day. He bowed to Ivan.

“If you’ll excuse me, Count Voralys, I’ll leave you to talk to your mother. If I may, I’ll wait with Major Karasavas until you’ve finished your conversation.”

Alys lifted a hand as if to stop him, but he had already marched past her and didn’t notice. Ivan shook his head at his mother.

“I _cannot_ believe you did that! It was unforgiveable! I’m going after him and you…you need to apologise. What has Simon _ever_ done to deserve that?”

“Ivan…” Lady Alys rose shakily to her feet. She’d gone deathly pale. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sway.

“Mamère? _Mamère_?” Ivan leapt across the room. He was just in time to catch her as she collapsed.

 

Simon and Ivan jumped to their feet as armsman Gerard swiftly swept the room. It was only a few seconds before Gregor strode in, concern written on his usually impassive face.

“Ivan? What’s happened? How is she? How are _you_?”

“We don’t know, Gregor. She collapsed. We just rushed her here.”

The waiting room at ImpMil hadn’t changed. Ivan, Gregor and Simon had been here before. Usually they’d been anxious for news about Miles, but the man himself surged in moments later, followed by his parents. Cordelia enfolded Ivan in a huge hug before she turned to Simon. She grasped both of his hands in hers, looking anxiously into his face.

“This is not your fault, Simon. It’s _not_.”

Aral looked worried. Ivan could see the deep lines of concern on his face as he talked to him.

“What happened, Ivan?”

“M’mother collapsed. She…we’ve been fighting over Marie. I’ve never fought like this with her before. Mother doesn’t _fight_. It’s completely beneath her dignity. We were going to talk to Aunt Cordelia about it, but there’s been so much happening, and they only just came back from Vandeville a couple of days ago. Today…I’ve never heard her say a bad word to Uncle Simon, and then, she hurt him, badly. And then she just…fainted. I caught her and pressed my screamer. And…here we are.”

“But what have the doctors said?”

“Nothing. She’s regained semi-consciousness and they’re running tests.”

“Poison?” Gregor asked what they were all thinking.

“Karasavas is going through everything with a fine tooth comb. It’s highly unlikely. She hardly ate a thing and no one else has shown any signs.”

“Were there any other symptoms, then?”

There were, weren’t there, and they had all assumed something quite different. Ivan could feel his face heating up. “Apart from being bad tempered Marie said she’d been very tired and was resting a lot. I…um…I presumed she hadn’t been getting much sleep.”

There was silence in the room as they all tried to not look at Simon.

“We all did, son.” Aral said, eventually. “We joked about it. We’ve all been so happy for Alys and Simon. Alys is indestructible. Whenever any of us fell to pieces, she was always there to pick us right back up again, keep us in line, smooth things over. _Always_.”

Cordelia put her hands on her hips. “For heaven’s sake! She’s not dead yet. It could be something quite _minor_. Menopause. Anaemia, a virus, just a fainting fit. She’s been under so much strain. Wait for the doctors before you start writing her obituary.”

Miles jumped up to pace. “We need coffee. We need those doctors to hurry up. I might just—”

“No, you might not. Sit.” Ivan pointed to a chair. “Sit, and wait like the rest of us.”

Gregor and Simon sat together in the corner of the room.

Gregor looked pale, too. “It’s all my fault. I made her work like a slave these past months. I never thought… I’m sorry.”

Simon shook his head. “It _is_ my fault, no matter what Cordelia says. I should have seen, should have noticed. She’d been so busy looking after me, always making sure I was safe and cared for…”

Ivan shook his head. “It’s _my_ fault. I gave her all that extra work looking after Marie, upset her about it all, and I’m her _son_. I should have been taking care of her.”

“I’m just waiting to hear how it’s somehow Aral’s fault, and Miles, I’m sure you can think of some dreadful sin of omission, then I’ll have a set. I’d love to see her face, Ivan, when you tell her she needs looking after. Honestly, _Barrayarans!_ ” Cordelia glared at them all.

 

Hypothyroid. Not some Machiavellian Cetagandan plot, not some twisted revenge on them all for the Vorclarence affair, just a very treatable condition. Ivan felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. They all did, by the expressions on their faces round the room. But that was High Vor politics for you, on Barrayar. Always assume the worst first and work back from there. He felt the need to sit down, suddenly, weak with relief. Gregor came over to grip his shoulder, and Aral went to Simon.

“Can we see her now?” he asked the nervous doctor who had come in to tell them the news. The man looked at the assembled crowd.

“Not all at once. May I suggest, sire, Count, two at a time? Perhaps a quick reassurance, and then leave her to sleep. We’ll be taking a tiny sample to grow replacement tissue, and then perform a transplant later. She’ll be in no danger in the meanwhile. We’re supplementing her hormone levels now. She’ll be back to normal in maybe two days? Three at the most.”

Gregor and Miles, then Aral and Cordelia visited very briefly, mostly to see for themselves that Alys was, in fact, fine. When Ivan and Simon went in she was lying semi-prone, an infusion tube running into the back of her hand. Her beautiful hair was brushed and coiled in a long twist over her right shoulder, and she looked at them both with her eyes bright. Ivan heard Simon’s long drawn-in breath escape in a sob. He stood back a little, watching as Simon collapsed on his knees at her side to take her free hand. His mother’s tears spilled over.

“I’m so, so sorry, Simon. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I couldn’t help myself. What I said…I’m so sorry.”

“Not another word.” Simon kissed her hand. “Don’t you dare give us a fright like that again. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Ivan.” His mother called him over. He skirted round the apparatus to the other side of the bed and kissed her forehead, smoothing back the hair with a hand that trembled slightly still.

“Mamère. Payback time, isn’t it? It’s always been you who have done the worrying, before. Everything’s all right, though. They’re going to have you up and out of here in no time.”

He scanned the room for a second chair. “We’ll just stay here with you, while you get some rest.”

Simon looked at him a little diffidently. “Ivan, I could stay with your mother. You need to call off ImpSec, and be there for Marie, if I have your permission.”

That was horrible, seeing the humble look on his face. “You don’t need my _permission_. I’d forgotten the uproar back home, God, I hope I don’t lose my cook over this. Karasavas had better not have fast-penta’d her.”

He saw the expression on his mother’s face this time. “We thought you might have been poisoned, Mamère.”

“Ivan, dear, really!” She sounded just like her old self. “So much melodrama, over a faint. As you can see for yourself, I’m in perfectly good hands.” She smiled softly at him. “I’m so sorry to worry you. I think Marie might need you more than I do, and I…I would like Simon to sit with me.”

“He’s your partner. Of course you would. Simon’s old knees might not be up to kneeling there all night, that’s for sure. Let me get a chair.” He kissed her again. “I’ll see you in the morning, and I’ll bring Marie with me. You take care.”

He dragged over a chair for Simon and left them to it. Miles was waiting for him in the corridor.

“All well?”

Ivan nodded. “All well. Why the hell the two of them don’t get married beats me.”

“Simon will never ask her to be Madame Illyan.”

“Is that what’s stopping them?” He sighed. “Barrayarans.”

Miles punched him in the shoulder. “Your place or mine for the maple mead?”

“My place. But not maple mead. I have responsibilities. And you are going to tell me all about Vorbataille.”

 

 


	24. Wedding Planning

 

 

The front door to Voralys House was opened by Armsman Harper, standing to proper attention. Miles took a second look at the livery as he nodded his thanks.

“Very nice, Ivan. It’s a smart turn out.”

“By did a good job, didn’t he? Speaking of which, is he still here, Harper? I’d like to thank him.”

“Yes, sir in the library. He wanted to wait for news. May I pass the latest to the staff?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a medical condition, easily treated and she’s resting comfortably. Captain Illyan will be with her overnight.”

Harper nodded. “Very happy to hear that, sir. Please give all of our good wishes to her ladyship.”

“I will, thank you. Let’s go and find By, Miles. You wouldn’t believe how good he is in an emergency. He’d checked m’mother’s pulse and breathing and was managing crowd control almost before I’d got her in the recovery position. I think he was as worried as I was. He actually distracted Simon, too, while we were waiting for the lightflyer. He kept telling him she was breathing just fine.”

They were out of earshot of Harper. Miles nodded. “Well, he’s worked with her for years, not that _we_ knew anything about it. He’s a brave man, talking to Simon at a time like that. He must have been ready to murder anything that so much as twitched.”

By looked up and jumped to his feet as the library door opened. With a quick look from Miles to Ivan, he relaxed. “Nothing too serious, then?”

Ivan was starting to sound like a recording on loop. “She’ll be fine. It’s a medical condition. No foul play involved.”

“Karasavas didn’t turn up anything. Ma Belka was mortified, but everyone knew it was nothing to do with her. She’s got some supper ready for you to calm her nerves. I’ll go and let her know, shall I? I’ll be on my way and leave you two to talk. Babysitting isn’t really my thing.”

“Babysitting? What were you doing _babysitting_? Was Marie upset? I didn’t think she knew anything about it.”

“It’s hard to miss an emergency lightflyer go past your window with all lights blazing. It landed in the courtyard, if you remember? I just read her a story or two after Ma McIver put her to bed. …She was there as well,” he added hastily.

“For pity’s sake, By. I’m not worried about you babysitting Marie! I’m really grateful. I can’t imagine you doing anything like that, is all.”

“Neither could I, but needs must, after all. She called me Uncle By. I told her she already had an Uncle Miles, but you can’t beat a six-year-old’s logic. She told me Uncle Miles wouldn’t mind.”

“Uncle Miles would pay good money to hear you called Uncle By,” Miles cackled.

By drew himself up. “For your information, Vorkosigan, I _am_ an uncle. My sister has two children that I know of, not that I’ve met them.”

Ivan changed the subject before Miles and By could start bickering too badly. “Stay for supper, By. You’re in the loop, after all. Miles was about to tell me about his Lord Auditorial investigation. Or was it an inquisition?”

“No pulling fingernails out any more,” Miles remarked. “Fast-penta has spoiled all the fun. Yes, stay, By. You may as well. We’ll call it our civic duty to keep you off the streets.”

Ivan had something to do. “I’ll just run up to see if Marie is awake and pass the word about three for supper while I’m at it. You’ll be happy to eat in here?”

He wasn’t really asking and left the pair of them to snark amongst themselves while he went to check on Marie. He sent Harper off to the kitchen to let them know and then ran up the stairs to slip quietly into her room. Her first night in his house should have been a happy one but it hadn’t quite turned out that way. She was fast asleep, with one of the books By had read to her still on the bedside table. Steggy had fallen to the floor and he picked him up to ease under her arm and tuck in beside her. Over at her worktable he pulled a sheet off the pad and drew a quick picture of himself in his blue House uniform bending over a bed, then drew hugs and kisses symbols beside it. He wasn’t as good as her, but it would have to do. He put it on top of the book where she’d see it in the morning.

Miles and By hadn’t come to blows. In fact, they were agreeably discussing a bottle of Ivan’s good red wine. It was one of the ones By had chosen for the cellars and Miles was obviously enjoying a bottle of his estate’s red that the family had actually made a profit on. They’d thoughtfully left a glass for him, though. It was very good of them so Ivan decided to be grateful for small mercies. He wasn’t back long before Harper brought the supper trolley into the room, wafting delicious savoury aromas towards them as he set a small table over between the windows.

Ma Belka had made dishes that would keep until he got back. Miles looked suspiciously at Ivan as he tried some stroganoff. After a few mouthfuls he had to comment.

“This tastes awfully like something you could get at my house. If you’ve lured Ma Kosti with your charm and good looks you are dead meat, Vorpatril.”

“That’s Voralys, thank you very much, and _you_ can address me as _Count_ in my own house, Vorkosigan. Ma Kosti didn’t make this. You’re not the only one who can find a good cook. Besides, Ma Kosti wouldn’t come.”

Miles spluttered in his wine. “You _asked_ her? You tried to steal my cook?”

“No harm in asking, and if she wouldn’t come and work for me with all my charming inducements you can be certain of her loyalty, unless you make the mistake of leaving Gregor alone with her for any more than two minutes.”

“I wouldn’t trust _him_ , either.”

“You’d be wise not to. By here tried to steal _my_ cook, and that was just _wrong_. I don’t think he even _has_ a kitchen. All’s fair in love and gastronomy, obviously.”

By had kept quiet during the interchange, steadily helping himself to the dishes, lifting up each silver-domed lid to discover the delectables underneath.

“Weren’t we here to discuss Vorbataille, or is your cook more important?”

Miles looked like he couldn’t make up his mind for a moment or two. It was fifty-fifty the way he was going to go, but duty won. _This time_.

“On my last little foray in the Emperor’s service I remarked at one point that we’d advanced to new and surprising levels of bafflement, and unfortunately it stands just as true here. Count Vorbataille was no real help at all, much as he wanted to be. Louis has pretty much broken his heart, I think. They haven’t spoken directly to each other for ever — at the Emperor’s birthday two years ago, in fact. The Count says he took his yacht out to Escobar, which means he went through the Jackson’s Whole jump point as he wasn't tracked through Sergyar space, but the last he heard of him was on the Komarr transfer station, round about the time of the _Kanzian_ incident. Not a trace since, and he’s had all sorts of people looking. His yacht’s at Jackson’s Whole but _his_ whereabouts is unknown.”

Miles finished another glass of wine. “There’s got to be a third person we don’t know about. Vorguriyev, Louis Vorbataille and Mister X, who is probably a Jacksonian. Our agents there are working triple time. Vorresiak isn’t on Barrayar or we’d have had him by now. He could well be the red herring in all of this, though, or surplus to requirements once Gregor survived Vorclarence’s effort.”

By twirled the stem of his glass in his hand. "From what I know of Louis Vorbataille I’d put your armsmen on high alert, and have someone watch Ekaterin, too. He has to know you’re breathing down his neck. He has a very vicious and vindictive streak.”

Ivan didn’t like the sound of that. “What about Raine? Beta was supposed to be safe for her. If they were at Escobar it’s not far at all to Beta from there.”

Miles didn’t look too concerned. “He’d have to get to her, first. Betan border control is pretty thorough, our people there would know the minute either of them showed their faces, plus she has Vorberg and his squad. I wouldn’t worry too much. Jackson’s Whole is the place he’d make a try. Any news from her lately? How’s the love life?”

“What love life? She has to have some surgery. In fact, it should be just about now. I was going to send a message tonight, but things turned a bit hairy, didn’t they? I did send a message to Wally three weeks ago to buy her some flowers. So that should be all organised, I hope.”

Ivan gloomily debated getting drunk, but that wasn’t an option these days. It was all pretty unsatisfactory. There were just too many loose ends. Add to that all his District duties and his mother’s health and he still had to see Lord Vorbohn too. Ivan felt like pulling his hair out. He told Miles about the Municipal Guard’s request.

“That’s all hot air! The Municipal Guard has no jurisdiction over a sitting Count in his official residence, and Lord Vorbohn knows that perfectly well. You’re going to have to get up to speed on this sort of thing, Ivan. Vorbohn was trying to bluff you.”

“Well, how do I do that, when I don’t know what I don’t know? It’s not like there’s a manual, is there? I’m just blundering round in the dark here, like that time we got lost in The Residence trying to sneak up to see the Winterfair fireworks. What were we, six or seven years old? You hadn’t been walking very long.”

“It was a good plan. We weren’t to know Gregor didn’t know his way either, when he drew us that map.”

Miles looked round the library. “Before we go any further, it’s really been nagging me. Why is there no carpet in this room? I’d swear there was one in here the first time we came to look around.”

Ivan held his head in his hands.

By laughed like water going down a rusty grating. “Ivan didn’t like the carpet, Miles. It’s gone off to be cleaned. I was going to mention it to you, Ivan, but you’ve been a bit busy the last couple of days. Are you happy to sell it? I have an interested buyer.”

“Absolutely. Get whatever you can for it. The funds can go towards a can of paint.”

“It might be worth more than you think, you know.”

He didn’t care about blessed carpets. “Whatever. Two cans of paint, then.”

By had finished eating as much as he wanted. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll head home, where I _do_ have a kitchen, than you very much. I’ll keep my ears open in the meanwhile. Don’t bother to see me out. I know the way.”

Once By had gone Ivan turned to Miles. “So, how’s _your_ love life? You’ve got a much better chance of having one than I do at the moment. Set a date for the wedding yet?”

Miles’ eyes turned glassy. Obviously lost in a very happy memory, Ivan had to cough to regain his attention.

“Ekaterin’s just magnificent, Ivan. I’m…humbled every time I even think about her. With all this running around after Vorbataille and Vorresiak we haven’t had a chance to plan a thing. I wanted it to be as soon as possible but there’s just too much _stuff_ happening to organise it any sooner than Winterfair, so we’ve settled for that. You’ll be my second, won’t you? It wouldn’t be right with anybody else.”

“Thank you. I’ll be honoured. It’ll be huge. I’m not surprised it’s taking a lot of organising.”

“No, not huge.” Miles looked annoyed that his dreams of grandeur had been curtailed. “Ekaterin is still in mourning and I don’t want any more gossip about her than can be helped. She said we could have as big a wedding as I wanted in spring but that’s way too far away. It’ll just be family and friends.”

That reminded Ivan of something else on his never-ending list. “Speaking of weddings, when is Delia’s? Or is Olivia going to beat her to it? I really have to go and see Drou. I haven’t been able to get to their place for ages, what with one thing and another.”

“Duv wants to get married as soon as possible. _He_ doesn’t want a big wedding, obviously, with no family, but it’s awkward. Kou and Drou can’t afford anything grand. I think Olivia’s wedding to a Count can’t be a hole-in-the-corner affair, not with all the Donna/Dono thing, yet nobody wants to bankrupt them. Da offered financial help and nearly got his head bitten off, I think, so he’s offered the ballroom at Vorkosigan House instead. Kou still wants to pay for the reception, though.”

Ivan had a little think. “Why don’t you tell him it would be a real favour if Ma Kosti could practise on Delia and Duv, to make sure she can get it right for your own wedding? Kou would swallow that, I think. You could fudge the cost of ingredients to bring it right down.”

Miles tapped his fingers together. “That might well work. You’re a genius, Ivan.”

“Not just a pretty face, am I? I’ll offer to pay for the drinks as _my_  family contribution. I’ll spin it that I don’t want m’mother to worry right now, which is true. Mother will forgive me, if she ever finds out. _I hope._ You can give me a family discount, and I can accidentally over-order to the point where there’s lots left for Olivia’s do.”

“That might just work, as well. I doubt Dono has a feather to fly with, just right now, but he’d sell the family silver to make sure Olivia has the wedding she deserves.”

Ivan grinned. “I’ve just had another brainwave. I’ll tell Drou that mama wants to pay for the wedding dresses as it’s a family tradition now. She bought Drou’s you know, way back when.”

“If anyone can charm Drou into accepting all this you can. Just make sure you get to her when Kou isn’t there.”

It was time for Miles to go home as well, even if, as Ivan suspected, he was going to detour past the university district. He called up Pym to bring the ground car over to pick him up. While they were waiting they strolled out into the entry hall.

Miles brought the subject back round to where they’d started. “I still think you should be planning for your own wedding, Ivan. You can’t have lost your touch so badly that you can’t persuade Raine.”

Ivan hunched his shoulders. “I’m not going to trick her into anything, or make her do something against her will. She has to really _want_ to marry me, enough to put up with all the bullshit that goes with me these days.”

“Ekaterin’s in the same boat, but she says I’m worth it.” Miles preened himself just a little. More than just a little. The cocky little bastard was positively _purring_ with hubris.

Ivan could only laugh as he saw him off into the ground car. “For goodness’ sake, Pym, take him away. All this self-satisfaction is making me ill. Have you ever seen anyone look so smug?”

Pym only smiled. “It’s much better than the alternative, Count. Believe me, when he thought he’d lost her, that was bad.”

Miles’ voice came to them out of the back of the ground car. “When you two have done discussing me I’d like to get home sometime tonight.”

Pym closed the rear canopy and hopped into his seat with a final half salute to Ivan, who watched as they pulled away. _Honestly, Miles._

 

Marie didn’t want to go anywhere near the hospital. Ivan could see signs of panic in her little face when he mentioned it. It was the first clue he’d had that she still hadn’t recovered from her own traumas. He briefly tried to persuade her.

“It’s ImpMil, princess. It’s not the hospital where I met you. Mamie is only having a rest there, to get some medication.”

“No, My Ivan. Mamie has to come _home_ from the hospital. She has to come _home_. Make her come.”

“I can’t make her, honey. How would you just like to talk to her, instead, on the comconsole, then I can take you for your swimming lesson if you like?”

Her fingers showed white around Steggy’s neck, and the pitch of her voice rose. “ _Papi Simon_ takes me for swimming lessons. He has to come home, too!”

He sat in the big chair he’d bought for her room and snuggled her up on his lap. “We can forget about the swimming lesson today. They’ll be coming home very soon. Don’t worry any more. We’ll just talk to them for a little while, and then how would you like to come with me to visit my Tante Drou? She’s the lovely lady we met at Vorhartung Castle, do you remember, and back here when I had my first party, the one when the Emperor came?”

“I remember her.” Some of the stiffness went out of her shoulders. “We can go and see her. Will Papi and Mamie be home when we get back?”

He explained again. “No, not for a day or two. Once the doctors say she’s better, Mamie might come and stay here for a few days with Papi Simon, but they live in their own home, remember?”

Her anxiety faded. “As long as you _promise_ , My Ivan.”

“My word as Voralys. Mamie will be fine.”

His mother did look better. She was sitting up in bed with a beautiful shawl around her shoulders. Simon looked tired, but his frantic anxiety had disappeared. Alys understood the problem immediately.

“Of course Marie doesn’t have to come to the hospital. We’re perfectly fine here. I might be going home in the morning. There’s nothing much to keep me once they’ve done the needle biopsy to get their specimen for tissue culture. There’s no need, but if you’d like to you can come in this evening, Ivan, while I send Simon home for a sleep. The poor man sat up all night with me.”

“That’s what he wanted to do Mamère. You know we could never have prised him away. I’ll come in this evening, and I’d like you to consider staying with me for a week or so, to reassure Marie. She’s terrified you’re not going to come home from the hospital at all, like her mother.”

“We’ll talk about it this evening. I can’t see that there’ll be a problem. Delia is going to help Laisa until I’m back on my feet.”

“Good. That’s a plan, then. Au revoir, Mamère.”

 

Drou welcomed them with open arms when Sarmiento dropped them off at the Koudelka’s. Kareen was still home, too, although Delia had gone to The Residence, Martya was working with Mark’s mad scientist and Olivia was off doing who knew what with, or was that to, Dono Vorrutyer. Ivan was reasonably glad Mark wasn’t there as well. He could stand his company if he had to, but the man still made him uncomfortable.

Drou took him into her sitting room. “How is Alys, Ivan? It’s so kind of you to think of me like this. We wanted to go to ImpMil last night but we knew there’d be such a crowd. Kou has a lecture at the Academy today, so I thought we could go this evening.”

“She’s going to be fine, Tante. It was her thyroid, can you believe? We all thought the worst when it happened, but not even Simon could find any links to Cetagandans. She’s worried though, so I said I’d come and talk to you.”

“Worried, Alys, about us? What in the world? Wait. We need cake, and tea. Marie, would you like milk with your cake?”

Marie had been looking in awe at Drou, towering above her, very close to Ivan in height. She just nodded.

“I’m sure Kareen will fix you right up. Would you like to go to the kitchen with her, while I talk to Ivan?”

Marie clutched hard to Ivan’s sleeve and shook her head this time.

“We’ll leave the door open, sweetie, and you can see that I’ll be right here all the time. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Ivan took her out the kitchen where Kareen was boiling water for the tea and cutting cake. Her sunny smile was enough to win anyone over. With very little coaxing she got Marie to hop up at the table with a plate of cake in front of her.

Ivan and Drou settled back in the sitting room. Drou smiled at him as she watched him eat his slice of lemon drizzle cake. “Isn’t this nice? Just the two of us like this. I don’t know how much cake you’ve eaten in my house, Ivan.”

“You were always the one I could turn to, Tante Drou. You never criticised anything I did. Every time I ran away from home I always ran here.”

“And I practised all my baby raising skills on you. Changed your little bottom and sang you to sleep, when we were all living at The Residence.” Her chuckle was quite evil. “Still, the girls turned out fine. I have you to thank. Now, what was your mother worried about?”

“It’s not just mother, actually. Miles is dying to ask you a favour and can’t pluck up the courage.”

“Oh, you know that’s just silly! Miles can ask me anything he likes. Which problem’s the worst one?”

Ivan considered. “Miles, I think. You know he wants his wedding to be perfect? He wants Ma Kosti to do the wedding catering, but it turns out she never _has_ catered for a wedding.”

Drou sat back and looked puzzled. “Ma Kosti will be able to handle it perfectly! Anyone would be happy with her catering. You know that.”

Ivan put down his empty plate and spread his hands. “We know that, but Miles is chewing his fingers already. He’s planning on asking you if Ma Kosti can practise on Delia’s wedding. There won’t be any family from Duv’s side so the size should be about right, he thinks. You’d still need to pay for the ingredients, of course.”

“Delia and I haven’t decided on caterers yet. It was going to be difficult bringing in people to Vorkosigan House.” She considered. “I’m sure it would work. You tell Miles not to worry.”

Ivan mentally licked his finger and chalked up a one. The next one might be trickier.

“Now, the other problem. M’mother was worried as the thyroid has got her a bit confused. She can’t remember what you decided about the wedding dresses, whether you’re going to let her pay for just the one of them or both of them.”

Drou looked totally amazed. “Your mother and I haven’t talked about the wedding dresses, Ivan. Delia hasn’t decided what she wants, and Olivia is nowhere near that sort of planning yet.”

“Perhaps she just dreamed it. She really wants to pay for Delia’s dress, after all the help she gave her with the wedding. It’s going to be her present.”

“I don’t think Kou’s going to be happy with that. It’s not traditional.”

“She paid for your dress, didn’t she? On Barrayar that’s traditional. You’ll have all the other clothes to pay for, don’t forget. The girls will all need something new, and you as well. It really will stop her worrying.”

Ivan crossed his fingers where Drou couldn’t see.

“I’ll talk to your mother tonight. She’s far too generous. We were going to sell the beach house to pay for the weddings, you know.”

“What? Don’t you dare! You love that house. We all love that house. Remember when Miles and I nearly set fire to it with the fireworks for Uncle Kou’s birthday?”

Drou ran her fingers through her hair. “How could I ever forget that? I thought Aral was going to lose his eyebrows when that rocket shot past his nose into the kitchen.”

“Yes, well, it was all Miles’s fault, of course. Anyway, you can’t sell. Tell Kou I’ll give him a mortgage on the place, no interest. I know he won’t take a straight out gift from me, but he shouldn’t mind a loan.”

“I’ll tell him, but you know what he’s like, Ivan.”

“We haven’t got round to what _I_ want to do, yet. I’d like to buy the booze for Delia. I’ll be responsible for drinking most of it, anyway. Miles will give us a family discount so it shouldn’t cost too much, and you know I can well afford it these days. Oh, and if Duv and Delia haven’t picked out a honeymoon spot yet, they can road test my new Honeymoon Hotel. Duv will love it. Pure Time of Isolation stuff, right down to the feather beds. Seriously, it would be perfect for them. I’ll send some vids through and they could see what they think.”

Drou stood up. “Well, I think you’re _far_ too generous, but you always were, Ivan, just full of love and kindness even when you bent over backwards not to show it with all that macho swaggering of yours.”

Ivan squirmed in his seat. Drou always looked at him through rose-coloured glasses ever since she’d been there when he was delivered.

“You’re part of my family, Drou. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and the girls, and Kou was the one who got me through the Academy.”

“You got yourself through the Academy, Ivan. You did well.”

“With a lot of help, and I’d love to give some help back now. Talk to Kou, and let me know.”

 

Ivan was in the ImpMil room with his mother when Kou and Drou dropped by that night. After a very few minutes Kou gave Alys a kiss.

“Why don’t Ivan and I leave you two girls to chat for a while? We’ll be right outside. I’d like to have a few words to him while I’ve got the chance.”

His voice was perfectly normal and non-threatening. His grip on the swordstick told a different story. Ivan swallowed hard. _Oh shit_.

 

 


	25. The best-laid plans...

 

 

He should have brought an armsman along, instead of having him stand outside guarding the ground car. Ivan watched Kou’s simmering internal touch-paper finally ignite the main charge. He couldn’t back up any further than the wall, and the commodore had him cornered.

“I can explain,” he offered. It sounded feeble even to his own ears.

“I doubt it, Ivan. I doubt it very much.” Kou’s voice grated somewhere between a snarl and a growl. “What the _hell_ do you think you were doing, you and that Vorkosigan…turnip…between you?”

The tip of Kou’s finger jabbed into Ivan’s chest, the poke just a little harder as he mentioned Miles. In any other situation it would have been funny to hear him call Miles a turnip, but this wasn’t funny. This was dangerous.

“Commodore Koudelka, sir, we just wanted to help. You’re our family. You’re the nearest thing I ever had as a father with Aral not having time for me.”

“Not good enough. And don’t call me sir. I told you that before.”

“Kou, we just…just—”

“ _Interfered_.” The finger poked again. “That’s what you just did. Interfered. I don’t need your help. My family doesn’t need your help.”

“We know you don’t _need_ us. But we wanted—” Ivan had a brainwave. He went on urgently.

“Kou, you don’t know what happened on Earth. Miles and I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Duv. It’s classified to hell and back but it was _serious_. We know Miles did, but _I_ never want to come that close to death again until I’m ninety. Duv’s got no one and he’s so suspicious of anything that looks like Barrayaran condescension. We wanted him to have a wonderful wedding, that’s all. Well, we want them _both_ to have a wonderful wedding, of course, but we thought you’d be more approachable than him.”

“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you?” Kou just snarled this time, no growl, and the red glare had gone from his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. We meant well.”

Kou took a deep breath. He started to calm down, just a little bit. Ivan didn’t fear for the shape of his nose any more.

“What will you let us do, Kou? Aren’t we family enough to do _anything_?”

Kou’s lips thinned. “One thing. You can do one thing each. Aral has loaned us his ballroom. Miles is lending us his cook. Neither of those are putting us under a financial obligation.”

He’d better not stuff this up. He only had this chance. “You know my father took mother to the beach house, don’t you? It was their last holiday together. She never wanted to go back there again, which is why it was her pleasure to give it to you for a wedding present. She didn’t go back, until that time we had your birthday party there.”

“And you and Miles between you nearly burned us out.”

“Yes, well, nobody should have trusted Miles with the fireworks. We were only thirteen.”

“You were big enough to know better. Go on.”

“I’d like first refusal on the place if you ever do decide to sell it, but I’d prefer to offer you a mortgage on it, just the amount you need. No interest. You’d be paying back the capital but you could manage that.”

“You should charge interest. It’s just common sense.”

“Kou, I can’t charge my family _interest_! The rest of them would skin me alive. Can you imagine my mother if she found out?”

Kou smiled for the first time. “That would be worth seeing, I grant you.”

Things were going well. Ivan tried one more gambit. “So, that’s just the business side of things. It’s not _giving_ you anything. I want to be part of the celebration itself. There’s one thing I can do that’s not going to cost me any money. By Vorrutyer is selling a carpet for me. I’m getting rid of it because it doesn’t fit his redecoration scheme, and …well, never mind the other reason. He says it might be worth a thousand marks, because it’s an antique.” Ivan crossed his fingers behind his back. He could bribe By into convincing Kou that’s what he could get for it.

“So, Uncle Kou, can my old carpet go towards the cost of the drinks?”

“I’m not your uncle, even if we are family.” Kou didn’t want to cede any more ground, but it was obvious he realised a thousand marks wasn’t an insult like paying for _all_ of the drinks would be.

“You’ve been _treating_ me like a misbehaving nephew.” Ivan gently pushed Kou’s finger away. “What other Count would you do that to, apart from Aral?”

Kou sighed and ran his fingers through his greying hair. “If it’s not the Vorkosigans or the Vorpatrils, the Voralys family are going to be the death of me. You’re turning out as twisty as Miles. And we just _know_ he’s never going to send me the bill for the food. He’ll weasel out of it somehow.”

“You’ll need all the cash you’ve got for Olivia’s do. I promise not to offer you anything for that one. Deal?” Ivan stuck his hand out. This trick would work perfectly well in reverse with Dono. In fact every word would be true. _I just want to help Kou but he’s too proud. He saved my life, etc etc etc. He’ll let_ you _pay for half of the wedding._

“Deal.” Kou reluctantly shook the proffered hand. “We’d better get back in there before Alys sends out a search party.”

Drou smiled her unruffled smile when they returned with no breaks or bruises and no blood flowing. “All sorted, then? Alys has just been talking about Delia’s wedding dress. We’ve settled on going halves, and Ivan is going to donate the cost of any embroidery, if we can get his ladies to do it and it can be done in time. Duv wants to be back from his honeymoon before the Emperor’s birthday, so that’s cutting things a bit fine.”

“Duv and Delia can come down to the District with me this weekend. How about you and Kou, Tante Drou? Delia and you can see the ladies and Duv and I will go and do some secret men’s business. You’re welcome too, of course, Kou. You haven’t seen my District, yet. What about you and Simon, Mama? We can make a proper weekend of it.”

Kou and Drou left without anything being finally settled, as it all depended on Duv, of course. Ivan stayed a little while longer, until Simon came back from his sleep. Ivan rapidly filled him in on what had been happening.

“So tomorrow, Simon, what I want to do is bring Marie in to fetch m’mother home. We have to get her over this fear she has of hospitals, even though it’s quite understandable. If that doesn’t work we’ll get a professional to talk to her. Mamère is happy to visit my house for a few days and I would love you to come, too, and we’ll maybe all go down to the District for the weekend.”

Simon was perfectly amenable to having his life arranged for him. “Anything Alys wants to do is fine with me.”

 

The plan worked. When Marie heard Ivan needed her help to bring Mamie home from the hospital she didn’t wait to be asked twice. She very carefully tucked up Steggy in her bed, with only his head sticking out.

“Is that so he’ll be safe until you get back?” Ivan asked.

“Yes, I’ll have to come home to find him.”

The bed had rustled a bit when she’d put Steggy in it. Ivan had a quick look when Marie went with Ma McIver to the bathroom to have her hair combed again. The drawing he’d done for her was under her pillow. _Awww…_ She was such a sweetheart. She’d never mentioned it.

Marie held onto his hand with a firm grip as they made their way through the corridors of ImpMil. She never said a word, either, which was pretty telling. Lady Alys was dressed and ready for them, her hair coiled as elegantly as always. Her dresser must have been there early, for her to be ready for Marie to see her looking as normal as ever.

“Mamie! You’re better!” Marie didn’t fling herself into an embrace the way she did with Ivan, but she gave her a tight hug all the same, and a big kiss under the ear.

“I’d get told off if I tried that,” he said, and contented himself with kissing the back of her hand. “Good to see you looking yourself.”

Alys just smiled at her son. “You’re not six years old anymore, dear.”

Yes, but he had been, and hugs like that were few and far between when he’d been growing up. Good job he’d had a nanny who hugged him every chance she got.

“What about a hug for me, too, pumpkin?” Simon asked.

“When we go home, Papi,” Marie said. “We have to take Mamie out of here _now_.”

“OK, then,” Ivan directed traffic, trying not to make too much out of Marie’s anxiety. “Marie, you hold Mamie’s hand and look after her. I’ll carry the suitcase and Simon can bring those lovely flowers. I think the Emperor sent them so we’d better not leave them behind.”

Sarmiento whipped the case off Ivan as soon as they got near the ground car. Fox opened the door and helped Alys in, then assisted Marie. The flowers disappeared into the boot alongside the case. Ivan and Simon sat facing the two ladies on the ride back to Voralys House.

“Would you like to go straight to your room, Mamère, or perhaps we could have tea in the blue salon first? Marie wasn’t able to eat much this morning. She said she had a tummy ache.”

“It’s all better now, My Ivan,” Marie told him. “I’m hungry.”

Alys smiled at her. “Tea it is, then. Marie can show me to my room afterwards.”

The armsmen did well, but Ivan saw a little flicker in his mother’s eyes at one point as Driscoll reached across in front of her to pour more tea for Ivan.

“I’d really appreciate it, Mamère, if you could find the time to explain the finer points of etiquette to the armsmen. I don’t know ‘em myself half the time as I just take it for granted. I’ll have the best trained people in town after The Residence. I’m sure they’d be grateful for your wisdom. Wouldn’t you, Driscoll?”

Armsman Driscoll had no idea what he’d done wrong. He looked from Ivan to Alys and back to Ivan again in mute appeal. “I’d appreciate it very much, sir. All of us would, I think. It’s not quite the same as hostage drills. We’re all up to date on those.”

“Quite so.” Alys gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Tomorrow, then, 1000 hours in here, and we’ll move on to the dining room after that. If you would pass the word?”

“Yes, my lady.” Driscoll decamped to the kitchen, tea pot still in hand. Thirty seconds later he reappeared and sheepishly left the teapot on the serving trolley.

“I didn’t mean right now,” Alys told him. “Stand there and wait, please, until you see someone requires assistance or you’re asked to clear the table.”

“No, my lady. I mean, yes, my lady.” Poor Driscoll looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him right then and there.

Ivan tried not to grin. “They need a lady’s touch. Pym did wonders with them, but they couldn’t possibly remember everything in the short time he had with them.” _He’d_ better remember to warn Fox what was in store for them all.

Once they had all finished and the unfortunate Driscoll whipped the trolley off to the kitchen, no doubt _this_ time to spread the word about the treat in store for them all the next day, Ivan left them all to settle in while he conferred with Nicolaides and his sadly neglected correspondence. There were several messages from Beta waiting for him. He flicked through to find Raine’s first. It was very short.

“All done for phase one. Everything went well. I’m going to sleep for a week. Love, Raine.”

Her mother’s note was slightly more informative. “Dear Ivan, you can stop worrying. Valeraine’s surgery went very well. The doctors have repaired all the hypodermal scar tissue and taken their samples to grow the skin graft. She saw your beautiful flowers when she woke up and said wasn’t it just like you to have thought of writing the note beforehand. It was very sweet of you and Wally kept the secret beautifully. He’s writing separately.”

Wally said much of the same thing but with a bit more technical detail, including the fact that the flowers were pink and white roses, and then added a rider at the end. “Vorberg has been meticulous with his duties and has acquired an earring for occasions when he is out of uniform. He seems to be a popular lad here at Valeraine’s theme hotel where we stayed for a few nights while she got all her business sorted. To be Barrayaran _and_ a Vor is pretty much a magical combination. Throw in young and handsome and you get the picture. Earthers are most struck with him although the Betans aren’t far behind. There’s a herm working on the marketing side of things who gave him a hell of a scare until he started reading earrings. Apparently it’s very keen to visit Barrayar. It's either a fool or loves to live dangerously. I’m sure the others have told you not to worry so I won’t bother. Regards, Waleska.”

Ivan had met a few herms. He especially remembered Bel Thorne. Bel had given _him_ a bit of a scare, too. It was funny now. Vorberg would probably think it was funny as well, in another ten years or so.

Vorberg’s report was to the point. No doubt ImpSec had received a longer version.

“No security alarms so far, Count. The squad is working well and the Embassy briefings have held no surprises. Beta is a wonderful learning experience and I’m enjoying the posting. _Vorberg, A M, Lieutenant, Barrayaran Imperial Service._

Once he decided there was nothing to worry about Ivan went back to the start and read them all again, before scrolling on to the rest of his correspondence. One from Colonel Otto caught his eye. He scanned it eagerly.

“Yes!” Nicolaides looked up from his desk.

“Good news, Count?”

“The best. We are going to have a party. A demolition party, this time. Colonel Otto has permission to train his troops in _close danger precision clearance._ We’ll have to get that temporary accommodation I asked you about up and running. Otto can be ready for us in two weeks’ time. He’s got supplies enough for five demolitions, he says. That should just about be enough.”

“It’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened in Prestwich. I never liked that place.”

“It should be fine once we green it up and find a bit of employment. There’ll be builders needed for the skate float track and the sports courts at the very least.”

Nicolaides shrugged, dismissing Prestwich. “I’m more worried about New Sheffield. Is there any progress on the paint factory?”

“Tsipis junior found me a CEO, an industrial chemist with production management experience. Factory sites are narrowed down to a choice of three in New Sheffield, so yes, I’m hoping to get it off the ground very soon.”

Nicolaides gave him a look. “Tsipis junior?”

“He’s Master Tsipis’s son-in-law’s cousin, who worked for Tsipis for ten years. His name’s something unpronounceable, ending in opoulos.”

“Papatheodorokoumountourogianakopoulos?”

Ivan gave him a look back. “No, that’s on his mother’s side, but close. OK, I should be more polite about my employees. I’ve acquired so many of them lately I temporarily forgot that one. Gianakopoulos is his name and he’s doing an excellent job. And you knew that perfectly well.”

“Yes, my lord Count.”

Ivan looked up sharply. Nicolaides didn’t _look_ offended. He hoped not. It wasn’t because Gianakopoulos was a Greekie. He could never remember Yastrezhembskyova either, who worked in accounting as well. His secretary went on as if nothing untoward had happened, except that he didn’t meet his eyes.

“There was also a message from Byerly Vorrutyer for you. The designs are ready for the library and hall and he awaits your convenience.”

“That would be a first. He could call around this afternoon. I’m sure Lady Alys will love to see them, too.”

“I’ll get that organised, then, sir.”

“Philip?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you upset?”

Nicolaides shook his head. “No, sir. Well, not really. Old prejudices die hard. Mine, I mean. I’m a bit ashamed of myself, to be honest. I was fully expecting you to denigrate Gianakopoulos, just then, but all you did was forget him, didn’t you?”

“Was that really a name?”

“What, Papatheodorokoumountourogianakopoulos? Absolutely.”

“Imagine trying to get that on your name badge. …Philip, I’m not going to be perfect but I’m not prejudiced about _any_ minority group.”

“No, sir, just forgetful.” Nicolaides’ smile was genuine this time.

“What else have I forgotten?” Ivan looked at his schedule in alarm. “Am I supposed to be somewhere?”

“You were going to contact Lord Auditor Vorkosigan?”

“Oh, _shit_! I have to get to him before Commodore Koudelka does. He didn’t answer last night and he hasn’t got back to me, either. He must be Lord Auditing somewhere. I’ll try one more time.”

Miles was still incommunicado. Ivan left _another_ message and gave up. There was one more thing he had to do, and that was order a tribute bag for the Emperor’s birthday. He didn’t want anything to go wrong with his first public duty. Gianakopoulos would know where to get the gold coins, too.

Enough was enough for one day. Perhaps his mother would like to see the rest of the house. Ivan had just left to go in search of her when Nicolaides called him back.

“Count Voralys, sir? There’s another message just coming in from Beta.”

Ivan hurried back to the comconsole. Had something gone wrong?

It wasn’t from Raine, and it wasn’t from Aceline or Wally, either. _Sela Thorne_? It took him a minute. Oh, it must be Vorberg’s herm. What could it want? It was a very business-like communication. It was an _order_.

Ivan leapt to his feet and let out a very uncountly whoop. Inside five seconds Fox burst into the room, stunner in his hand. He relaxed when he saw Ivan’s grin.

“Don’t scare me like that, sir.”

“Sorry, Fox. Would you happen to know where I can find five hundred Vor daggers at short notice?”

 

 


	26. Out of the mouth of babes

 

 

Now he really had to get back down to the District. Ivan’s call to Wilkins was a thing to cherish. The manager confirmed twice that he had an order for five hundred daggers before he had to stop what he was doing to take a sip of water. He could hardly speak.

“I don’t know how to thank you, my lord. You’ve saved generations of craftsmanship, both today and with the three orders we’ve had for seal daggers. Count Vorrutyer is having one made, and also Count Vorbretten.”

“That’s two. You said you had orders for three.”

“The third one is for a younger son. It’s not exactly a seal dagger and the carving will be a single leaf. That order is confidential, I’m afraid.”

_And I bet it’s a maple leaf._ Ivan didn’t press the matter, but he’d bet the farm on it that he was right. “I’ll be down to see you and we can discuss sizes and price points. I think it’s all still a bit experimental at this stage. Do you want me to talk to the embroiderers for the sheaths, or would that be better coming from you?”

“If it pleases you, Count, I’ll be delighted to liaise with the embroiderers and also the leather workers.”

Ivan was more than pleased. “The less work _I_ have to do the better. Tell the ladies they have to finish my tribute bag as their first priority, though. I don’t know if I’ll see them as I’ll be there on the weekend. They should be having a well-earned break. I hope you don’t mind me using up some of your free time, Wilkins.”

“Of course not, sir. I’ll probably be here all weekend, anyway. You don’t know how wonderful it is to be _busy_.”

“I’ll send through the order and the specifications. They’re going with the acorn for the pommel, if you remember that one.”

“I do indeed, sir. It’s a good choice.”

“I tell you what, Wilkins, make an extra hundred for me and we’ll have them ready when the tourists start to come to Rotherhall.”

Wilkins blinked rapidly. “What if they don’t come, sir?”

“Oh they’ll come, or I’ll be giving daggers as Winterfair gifts for the next ten years. My friends will be sick of me. Anyway, Wilkins, Nicolaides will update you on all the details. I just wanted to let you know the good news myself.”

Wilkins bowed deeply. “I’m so very grateful, sir. Goodbye.”

Ivan slumped back in his chair. “Who do we know going to Beta? Freight’s going to kill us if we’re not careful.”

Nicolaides thought for a moment. “Count and Countess Vorkosigan are returning to Sergyar soon. That’s more than half way.”

“They must have a strict baggage allowance, though. I couldn’t, could I?” He thought for a while. “I suppose it’s worth a try. Expect them both for dinner in the next couple of days, while my mother is here. If we don’t arrange something soon we’re going to miss them. I still have to talk to the Countess at some stage, too. I’ll go see what m’mother would like to do.”

Lady Alys was nowhere to be seen downstairs and her bedroom door was firmly closed. Ivan tracked Simon to Marie’s room, where he sat in the big chair with her on his lap and read from a story about the little grav tractor who could. Marie followed every word. Ivan stood quietly in the doorway until Simon finished.

“Why don’t you draw a picture for Mamie? You can copy from the book, if you like. Ivan’s waiting to see what you can do.”

There was no fooling Simon. No one was ever going to be able to sneak up on _him_.

Marie hopped down to pull Ivan over to her desk. “Come and see, My Ivan.”

“I think it’s your lunchtime, pumpkin. We’d better get you all washed up and ready. You can do your drawing after lunch. Uncle Byerly is coming to see me again.”

Marie had been going to object but this diverted her. “Uncle Byerly? He’s funny. Did you know there are over twenty shades of pink, not counting puce because nobody should count puce? His favourite is rose.”

“I did _not_ know that, but By would. He’s not going to paint my house pink, is he?”

She giggled. “No, ’acos you would _damage_ him, he said. He’s choosing frost and aba…alab…”

“Alabaster? Frost and alabaster? Could be worse, I suppose. Not together, I hope.”

“And warmer tones for the library, because you’ll sit there in the winter.”

“You’ve remembered everything Uncle Byerly talked to you about, haven’t you?”

“He likes colours, too. It’s fun to talk about colours.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. I suppose it is fun to talk about colours if you like them.”

His wristcom pinged. “Lord Auditor Vorkosigan to speak to you, sir,” Nicolaides told him.

Ivan turned back to Marie. “Excuse me please, honey. Uncle Miles wants to talk to me. Papi will see you get your lunch.”

Simon nodded assent and Ivan ducked into his bedroom to find the closest secure comconsole. “Hello Miles. Have you got any friggin’ idea what colours frost and alabaster are?”

Miles looked at him like he was an idiot or something. “What the hell, Ivan? You haven’t been leaving me messages to talk about colours, have you?”

“No, of course not. It was about Delia’s wedding. Kou’s onside with Ma Kosti catering for it. I told him we owe Duv big time, back from when we were on Earth.”

“You _told_ him about that?”

“Not what happened, just that we owed him. But get this. I had another idea—”

Miles looked horror-struck. “Dear God, Ivan! Are you sick or something?”

“Shut up, Miles, for one minute, and _listen_. We can get Dono on side the same way. Tell him we really owe Kou, slip him some money—”

“What makes you think Dono needs money?”

“Not Dono, _Kou_! Don’t be so obtuse! Get Dono to tell Kou it’s tradition for Vorrutyer Counts to pay for their wedding. Kou won’t know any different, and neither does Dono, come to think of it. It could be perfectly true. Kou will still have to pay for the wedding dress, but I’m working on that one.”

“You should leave the scheming to me, you know, Ivan. You’re not congenitally equipped for it.”

“If you mean I wasn’t born a weasel then you’re quite right. This plan is perfect. Nothing can go wrong.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Don’t ever say that. Now I know I should be worried. And for your information, frost is a cross between pale arctic and cloud, and alabaster is like egg shell only closer to pearl. Happy?”

Ivan groaned. “I’m going to leave all that touchy-feely feminine side stuff to By, just as long as Ekaterin keeps him in line. Doublevee aesthetica seems to be taking off like a rocket. By has mellowed no end, Miles. You should see him now. Can you believe he even babysat Marie when I rushed off to ImpMil with m’mother?”

Miles looked at something off to the side. “It’s nice chatting with you, Ivan, but if there’s no other news—”

“Raine’s had her first lot of surgery.”

Miles’ impatience disappeared and Ivan received the full force of his entire attention. It was almost like he’d leant through the vid screen. “Why didn’t you say? How is she? Did everything go well?”

“Yes, fine so far. She needs another skin graft once they’ve grown it, then she’ll be good to go. Or come home, I mean. She’ll be safer here than on Beta, if you’re certain Vorresiak isn’t on planet. Vorberg apparently has had an educational experience with a herm by the name of Sela Thorne, who must be related to Bel, don’t you think, and, get this, has just ordered five hundred Vor daggers for the theme hotel.”

“Who? Vorberg? Oh, you mean the herm. Raine must have been busy. Bel said it had a lot of relations back on Beta. It never would say why it left, though, or why it took up soldiering. I always wondered as warlike Betans are few and far between.”

“Perhaps this Sela guy…um…person knows the story. Wally says the idiot _wants_ to come to Barrayar. Can you believe that? A herm? It’d need bodyguards if it ever left Vorbarr Sultana. I suppose guided tours might work, but all the same…”

“I really have to go, Ivan.”

“Come to dinner. Bring Ekaterin. Can you make it tomorrow night? I’m trying to get Cordelia to talk to m’mother and it might get awkward. You’re always good for a distraction.”

Miles’ eyes narrowed. “Thanks, I think. As it happens I need to have a word to you, about your cook—”

“See you tomorrow night, Miles. Gotta go.” Ivan cut the com.

He talked to Nicolaides to arrange the dinner, then ran Marie and Simon to earth in the blue salon. There was plenty of lunch left for him and they hadn’t been eating for very long. Marie’s manners were excellent. He’d better remember to thank his mother.

“So, Ivan. You seem to be thriving on this Count business. Are you enjoying life?” Simon had a twinkle in his eye under his bland exterior.

“Enjoying life? It’s all too much like hard work at the minute. I feel like one of those jugglers at the Winterfair celebrations. I never get a minute’s peace! Running a District that’s been so badly neglected is not all beer and skittles, even though the beer is excellent. That would be a good idea, putting in a skittle alley down in Rotherhall, like I need another job, though. I haven’t even talked to Etienne Vorinnis since I sent him off to Rotherhall, I haven’t seen Gregor or Laisa for ages, and someone tried to take my head off. I’m still worried about Gregor, and now there’s mother. It’s all been a bit much.”

“Not to mention the party.”

Ivan groaned. “I was trying to forget the dam—er rotten party! Can you believe people are badgering me to have another one?”

“That’s probably because of the jurisdiction thing,” Simon said. “The municipal guard will be grinding their teeth.”

“Well, it’s not going to be happening. I’m dodging Lord Vortien as it is. More fool him to let his daughter out of his sight, but it wasn’t _my_ fault she did what she did. I didn’t do it. It seriously wasn’t my fault. She’s of age, after all.”

“What did she do, My Ivan?”

_Shoot._ He’d forgotten about Marie, she’d been so quiet and good. Thank goodness he hadn’t said anything too explicit. “She…um…well, she had too much alcohol to drink. Then she and some other people made a mess on the carpet in the library. That’s why we had to take it out. Her father thinks it was my fault, but it wasn’t, really. It was my wine she drank, though.”

He stopped to eat some lunch, but Marie still looked confused, so he went on. “It’s never too early to learn about alcohol, Marie. It’s very bad for you, you know. Everyone likes to drink it, but it makes you sick. Children aren’t allowed to drink any, so mind I don’t see you anywhere near it for at least another ten years. Understood?”

She nodded. “Do you get sick enough to go to hospital?”

“Only very silly people, but yes, the municipal guard takes people to hospital just about every day.”

“I won’t drink any ever!”

Ivan relented. “ _You_ don’t have to worry, sweetheart. A little bit to drink is fine when you’re grown up. Papi and Mamie and I drink it quite often, but we don’t get drunk. When you get older we’ll talk about it some more.”

He was very careful not to catch Simon’s eye. He felt like enough of a hypocrite as it was. They’d just about finished lunch when Harper came in to let him know Byerly Vorrutyer had arrived.

“Do you want to come and say hello to him, Marie? Harper can take you back up to your room after, and you can do your drawing,” Ivan asked.

Simon held his hand out for Marie to jump down from the table. “I don’t mind coming with you. I’d like to say hello to Vorrutyer as well. He’s been very kindly asking after Alys. I’ll take Marie on up after.”

Harper had shown Byerly into the blue salon. Ivan did a very quick double take. “By, what in heaven’s name are you wearing? Tell me that’s not a frill.”

By smoothed down the sleeve of his jacket and shot the cuff of his shirt to show the full effect. It was definitely…wavy. And lacy. “Not _frills_ , Ivan, “ By objected. “Ladies wear frills. These are ruffles. Very eighteenth century Earth.”

“Yes, well. I know that suit’s not puce, because I have it on good authority that nobody should count puce as a colour, but what the deuce do you call _it_?

“Brillberry magenta. Works wonders for my skin tones, don’t you think?”

Marie giggled before Ivan could begin to formulate his thoughts for a child rated audience.

“Uncle By, my Mamie says you need…oh, what was it, Papi, when we saw that woman with the frilly swimsuit?”

Simon choked just a little. “You remember that? She said you need panache to carry off frills, and a figure like a drainpipe.”

“And _you_ said the lady had a figure like the Vorbarr Sultana main sewer, and you should know because you’ve been in it.”

Simon actually turned a little pink. “Did I? Vorrutyer doesn’t look like a sewer pipe.”

“No, he has panache, don’t you, Uncle By?”

“I like to think so, Marie. Thank you very much for the compliment.”

She whispered to By. “You don’t want to look like the lady with the frilly swimsuit. Papi said—”

“That’s quite enough, Marie. I’d better take you back upstairs now, and let Ivan and Vorrutyer discuss their business.” Simon held out his hand for her.

“Yes, quite right. I need to find out about frost and alabaster, so I’ll see you both later.”

Ivan waited until the door had closed behind the pair before he burst out laughing. “Wait until I get Simon on his own. What would that little minx have said next?” He laughed so hard he had to mop his eyes. “We are so going to have to watch what we say in front of Marie. She remembers _everything_.”

By preened just a little. “I’m glad I have panache, at least. Out of the mouths of babes.”

“And I’m not allowed to get drunk ever again, or Simon will never let me forget it. Come on, show me these plans. I’m dying to find out what frost looks like.”

 

Security was the tightest it had ever been at Voralys House when the Viceroy and Vicereine _and_ the Lord Auditor and his fiancée came to dinner. Luckily they brought their ImpSec squads and armsmen with them, too. Fox, Harper and the rest had recovered from their shell shock of Lady Alys in full flight. She’d drilled them for two solid hours that morning, going over the finer points of service until they were perfect.

Ekaterin and Miles arrived first, so as it was Ekaterin’s first visit to Voralys House, Ivan took them on a quick tour of the downstairs rooms. He’d invited By along as well to even up the numbers and he came with them to talk about the decoration.

Ekaterin approved By’s colour schemes. The blue salon was going to remain blue, with alabaster as the accent note for the moulded ceilings and window surrounds, with the drapes and furnishings Voralys blue and silver. The dining room, with its big windows facing the courtyard, only needed the ceilings painted frost white. The wood panelling was going to remain the same as when the house was built.

“It’s far too precious to ruin with paint, or anything like that. Besides, the oak is symbolic,” By pointed out. “The secret of decorating is to know when to leave well alone.”

Ekaterin looked around when they reached the library. “What were you going to do in here? I saw the carpet on the newsvid. Is it coming back? The floor looks a little austere, although the parquet is wonderful.”

By clicked his fingers. “That reminds me. Ivan, the carpet actually cleaned up wonderfully. It’s all hand made, you know. I had it looked at. The experts tell me it’s over seven hundred knots per square inch. Are you sure you don’t want it back in here?”

“No, it’s promised to Kou, to help pay for Delia’s wedding. I hope to hell you get a good price for it, By, because I fibbed a bit. I told Kou we’d get a thousand marks. I’ll have to make up any difference.”

By blinked his long eyelashes and looked sideways at Ivan. “You have no idea, have you?”

“No idea about what? I have no idea about most things, if you listen to my relatives. Anyway, enough about carpets. I’m getting a solid colour in here, Ekaterin, instead of that flowery thing. What did you tell me yesterday, By?”

“Ultramarine blue carpet with striped warm cream and blue wall silk, but it went in one ear and out the other.”

“Ooh, very nice,” Ekaterin said. “I can just see it. You’ll need some family portraits, Ivan. They would go beautifully in here.”

“I’d have to pry them out of m’mothers fingers first. There’s one of my father I’d love to have, but she loves it, too. And one of Prince Xav with his daughters, as well.”

A beep on his wristcom told him the Viceroy and Vicereine had arrived so they all walked out into the hall to say hello. Cordelia kissed and hugged all round, including By, much to his surprise. Aral shook hands, apart from Ekaterin, kissing her hand and cheek.

“My mother and Simon should be down any minute. She’s taking things very easy until after the transplant, although Fox wouldn’t believe that, after the going over she gave all the armsmen this morning. Let’s go and have a drink in the blue salon while we’re waiting.” Ivan led the way.

It wasn’t long before Simon and Alys joined them. Cordelia looked around. “This might be the last time we’re together until Gregor’s birthday. We’ve stayed over far too long, hoping for news, but we just have to get back to Sergyar. There’s no telling what we’re going to find.”

Miles looked rather guilty. “I’ve never come across so much lack of information. The ones that want to help know nothing, and the ones that know something are so well hidden they may never show up. The only place they can be is some bunker on Jackson’s Whole.”

Simon raised his glass. “Well, they can stay there. I don’t care if they rot, but I suppose they’ll have to come out sometime, and ImpSec will be waiting.”

Ivan had a smile to himself. Miles wasn’t going to be sitting around waiting. He’d have somebody in the Whole. Maybe not ImpSec, but _somebody_.

Dinner was every bit as delicious as Ivan hoped it would be. Miles spluttered a little as Ivan told them all about his cook, but Aral couldn’t see the problem. “You can’t be a dog in a manger, Miles. What would you have done with Ma Belka, anyway? Look at it this way. It’s all in the family.”

Ivan couldn’t resist it. “I tell you what, Miles, I’ll ask Ma Belka if she’d like to help her auntie for Delia’s wedding. And if she’s happy to do that, she might help with _your_ wedding, too. On the house. That would give Ma Kosti the chance to see you married. You know she’d love that.”

Over coffee back in the library, the talk finally turned to Marie. Cordelia looked from Ivan to Alys. “So, tell me, What exactly is the problem?”

 

 


	27. Getting settled

 

 

“Ivan,” By stood up. “May I show Miles, Ekaterin and Count Vorkosigan your wine cellar? I think they’ll be impressed.”

“What? Oh, yes, thanks, By, of course.” Snarky as he usually was, By could be exquisitely tactful when he chose. Miles and Aral weren’t slow to take the hint, either. They were probably blessing By for his quick thinking right now.

Simon rose to follow them. “I think I’d like to see it, too.”

Ivan shook his head. “No, Simon, you stay, please. You’re part of my family now. Your opinion is really important regarding Marie’s welfare.”

“Thank you, Ivan. That means a great deal to me. If you’re both sure?” Simon looked to Alys for permission. “I do love that little girl.”

Alys held out her hand. “Of course, love. Sit down.”

Ivan stared into his coffee cup. There wasn’t any answer there. He looked back up again. “The problem is, Aunt Cordelia, that we all love Marie too much. I’m not prepared to have her live anywhere but with me. Gregor appointed me her guardian.”

His mother’s lips thinned in disapproval. “Cordelia, a six year old girl can’t live with a single male who has a mountain of other responsibilities that will keep him shuttling back and forth to his District. Marie needs to be settled. She’ll do much better with us.” Alys sounded quite certain.

His mother was wrong. He could give her everything she needed. “I’ve employed Ma McIver. Marie loves her, and she loves Marie. She has all the stability she needs. And I’m very much hoping I won’t be single for too much longer.”

Alys’s tone was very clipped. “So what happens if Raine doesn’t want the responsibility of a six year old daughter? Have you talked this out with her?”

“You must know I haven’t, Mamère. We haven’t even talked through the marriage part, yet. She knows about Marie, though. I told her that much. Raine is the only reason I haven’t petitioned Gregor to formally adopt Marie yet. That needs to be a joint decision.”

Cordelia had been sitting silently, watching the both of them. “What do you want for Marie, Alys?” She asked.

“I want her to grow up with all the advantages of a stable home. She’ll make good connections, living with us. We love her. She’s…keeping us young.”

Cordelia tipped her head in acknowledgement. “And you, Ivan? What do you want for her?”

He spread his hands with frustration and uncertainty as he tried to explain his feelings. “I want her to be free to choose whatever she wants to be! It’s not up to me to impose my wishes on her. I want to see her grow strong, secure and brave, and develop her talents. I want her to learn to make her own good decisions and pick her up when she falls down. Look at Lord Vortien’s daughter. Evelina is twenty years old. She’s been brought up making good connections in a stable home. She’s a promiscuous drug addict already! Mamère, you’ll be over seventy years old when Marie really needs you, and Simon will be older again. I see your role as loving and caring grandparents, not her primary caregivers. Of course you could do it if you had to, but you _don’t_ have to.”

Cordelia asked a question. “You and I, Alys, never got the chance to have the big, happy families we always wanted. Is Marie a substitute for the daughters you missed out on?”

Alys looked severely displeased. “She’s not a substitute anything, Cordelia. I reconciled with my grief a long time ago.”

“And what about siblings for Marie? It’s possible, you know.”

“No. As much as Simon deserves to be a biological father, the emotional investment in another baby is not one I can make.”

“Ivan?”

“I very much hope so, Aunt Cordelia, and before there’s too big a gap, but my _emotional investment_ in Marie is already absolute.” Something cracked. It felt like it was in his brain, but it could well have been his heart. “I was the one who closed my hand around her thigh when her life was pumping out of her leg. _I_ watched her mother die in front of me. I’m the one who held on to her when she cried for her Ma and Da.” The lump in his throat nearly choked him. He could only whisper. “I was the one who promised to look after her.”

Angry at himself, and at the situation, he jumped to his feet and started pacing the room.“Any sibling for Marie I bring into this world will be loved and treasured and welcomed with all my heart, but that won’t ever lessen what I feel for Marie right now. She’s my daughter.”

Cordelia started to speak, but Simon held up his hand.

“Ivan’s right, Cordelia.” Alys looked at him in blank shock, but Simon forged on. “When he was living his carefree life in that apartment of his it was different, but he’s changed. We all have, but Ivan deserves our admiration and respect. He’s handled everything that’s been thrust on him brilliantly, and I have no doubt he’ll be a brilliant father too. I very much appreciate his consideration and acceptance, and I would be honoured beyond measure to continue to be Papi Simon to Marie, but not her father. There’s the question of her safety, too. Ivan can look after her in ways we can’t, with his armsmen.”

“Papi Simon. With visiting rights as chief swimming instructor, self defence guru, babysitter and story teller. And you can live here for as long or as short as a time as you like.” Ivan blinked away the emotion from his eyes. Simon understood.

Simon understood, but Alys didn’t. She hadn’t given up, yet. Cordelia headed her off at the pass.

“Do you remember, Alys, when Falco wanted to take Ivan and bring him up?”

“What has that got to do with this situation? Yes, I remember. Aral…dissuaded him. It was very stressful at the time.”

“Why did Falco want him, apart from the fact he was male and Xav’s great grandson?”

“I was too young. Flighty, he said. I’d never had any responsibility. I couldn’t handle a boy.”

“Sound familiar? You don’t think Ivan can be trusted with Marie, do you?”

“I—” she closed her mouth, not wanting to say anything more.

“He’s your son, Alys. You did a fine job with him.” After waiting a moment for a reply that didn’t eventuate, Cordelia turned to Simon. “Go and find those men and tell them it’s safe to come out now. Poor Ekaterin, to be thrust into the middle of a family argument like this. They can bring a bottle with them, too. One of the good ones.”

Ivan gave her a hug. “Thanks, Aunt Cordelia.”

“So what else has been happening, Ivan? Tell us about these Vor daggers of yours. I think they’re a masterstroke.”

“You wouldn’t like to take some to Sergyar, would you? I need to get them to Beta as soon as possible.”

Cordelia tipped her head to one side and gave him a look. “You know I can’t do that, Ivan. Any spare mass allowance has to be used for the benefit of Sergyar.” She relented and gave him a wink. “Have a word to Laisa and see if any Toscane freighters will take a backload for a discount, or even the _Empress Laisa._ Their liners will carry freight sometimes, depending on passenger loading.”

“Thanks for the tip. What if I can get an order for a dozen or so for a Kareenburg bookshop? They wouldn’t weigh a lot.”

“Persistence is a family trait, isn’t it? What if you give me the wholesale discount and I buy ten for my very special friends back in Chaos Colony? These are going to be big, you know. You don’t want black marketeering on the secondary market. I can take personal items with me. We’re leaving directly after the weekend, though. Are they going to be ready?”

“I’ll make sure they’re ready. Would you prefer leather or velvet sheaths?”

“Half and half. Leather would be better for non-Betans, I think, but we can see how they go.”

“The velvet ones are going to be rose pink, or made to order in any colour except Vorbarra black and silver. I might have to charge extra for other District colours. I’ll definitely have to charge extra for alabaster or frost.”

Cordelia gave him another look, like she couldn’t decide whether he’d just said something profound or he’d reverted to idiot mode.

 

Ivan hadn’t seen Duv Galeni since the Imperial wedding. It was good the shake his hand. His grip was as firm and no-nonsense as ever, but his strong face softened every time he looked at the woman by his side. Delia Koudelka looked absolutely radiant. With Kou and Drou and Alys and Simon and Marie plus five armsmen he charted a small commercial shuttle to take them all out to New Sheffield. Duv could only manage two days and one night away, so they were going to make the most of their quick trip, leaving early after a very simple breakfast. He’d sent the Belkas down the day before, all five of them, plus Fox and the Nicolaides to get the place ready and organise more transport. With Fox doing the flying there was just room for them to squeeze into the lightflyer, so that would be waiting when they got there.

They didn’t stop in New Sheffield for long, really just enough time to unload all the baggage and split up. Fox and Harper took Drou, Alys, Marie and Delia out to Prestwich. Despite it being the weekend Mollie and Rachel and all the women had insisted on turning out to meet the Count’s mother again, not to mention Delia and Drou. The magic word _wedding_ had them all flapping, Fox told him, plus there were equally excited to see how the armsmen’s liveries had turned out.

Sarmiento and Driscoll flew the hired lightflyer down to Rotherhall with Ivan, Duv, Kou and Simon. They landed behind the Town Hall as it was market day and the square was in full use. Ivan watched out of the window as the flyer settled in a little eddy of dust and leaves in the cordoned-off car park.

“That’s Etienne and Katja Vorinnis waiting for us,” he pointed out. “They’re still here!”

The municipal guard had turned out as well, plus Jenny Beck, Sinclair and even Farmer Eccles. He was probably in town for the market, anyway. Still, it was nice of him to show up.

“All we need is the town band,” Duv remarked. “I thought this was going to be a quiet visit?”

“Ivan’s the Count, Duv,” his prospective father-in-law reminded him. “There’s always going to be a bit of formality.”

Driscoll hopped out first to clear the area, then Ivan stepped out. The town band, hidden from vision as the flyer landed, struck up a lively tune. Ivan couldn’t stop laughing at the look on Duv’s face. Etienne Vorinnis surged forward to shake his hand.

“Count Voralys! Welcome, sir.”

Ivan kissed Katja, then shook hands down the line, introducing the other men as he went. Eccles and Sinclair couldn’t contain themselves.

“Count Voralys, sir! When we saw what happened in Prestwich—we were so angry that anyone would want to do that to you! There would have been murder if they’d tried that here. And that Captain Fenerty—he was so fierce protecting you when you visited. We’re all so sorry for your loss, and his family.”

So much had happened that it seemed rather dream-like to Ivan now, but it was no dream, and Fenerty was still dead. He had to keep telling himself it wasn’t the fault of anyone in Prestwich. They all waited until the band finished playing their welcome. Ivan acknowledged them with a cheery wave, and a handshake for the band master, then turned back to Etienne.

“I didn’t expect to see you still here. Have you enjoyed your visit? You’re looking so much better.”

Vorinnis smiled broadly. “We love it here. We’re not going back to Vorbarr Sultana, except to pack the house and maybe visit the replicator centre. Miss Beck has been brilliant showing me the work involved, and your plans for the tourist centre. I…er…wondered if she doesn’t deserve to be doing something better than receptionist.”

“I’m sure you need a deputy. Go right ahead and tell her after we’re gone. I think Duv’s a bit over the fuss just now.”

They’d been walking back to the square as they were speaking, and Duv, very politely taking Jenny Beck’s arm, had just caught sight of the market and the buildings. His jaw dropped. “Ivan, those are mullioned windows. With leadlights!”

“They certainly are. That’s _The Black Sheep,_ honeymoon destination extraordinaire. We’ll end up there for lunch. Let’s just have a wander for a while, and you can see the rest of the place.”

The crowds parted as the little party walked along, everyone so happy and smiling to see him. The mood was so different from the time they’d all waited for him in fear of the fate he’d decided for the three lads now working so hard as Sinclair’s apprentices. He could even look at the animal pens and laugh, telling Duv, Simon and Kou the story of his close acquaintance with the sheep that had winded him.

“Weren’t my sheep, Count,” Farmer Eccles protested. “Mine would have known better. I think we ate that one, after.”

Kou and Simon were drawing their own attention. Sinclair and Eccles had quietly passed the word of who they were. Kou was distinctive with his height and his swordstick, but Simon, never the one to seek the limelight when he had been Chief of ImpSec, drew shocked gasps and awed silence as the word spread.

Before they went to look at the cooperage Sinclair showed them the blacksmith’s forge and the saddlery, both of which Ivan hadn’t seen himself yet. The blacksmith had two new apprentices and the saddler one.

“It’s like this all over town, Count,” Eccles told him. “With you cancelling the fees people are putting on boys and girls left, right and centre. Visitors have been staying at _The Black Sheep_ because they want to see my blacks. We’ve had people from six or seven different Districts at least already, with more to come.”

“Wait until we get a few galactics out here. That should really get things moving. How are the plans going for the Voralys uniforms, Etienne, do you know?” Ivan asked.

“You’ll see the first ones at lunch. They’re coming out as fast as we can manage. Everyone loves the designs, and they’re practical, as well.” Vorinnis quirked his eyebrows. “We’ve heard all about the Vordaggers, too. With your permission there’s an old shop on the square we’re going to turn into a souvenir centre, very tasteful, in keeping with your concept. We’ll stock genuine Barrayaran hand made souvenirs, food, embroidery, and Vordaggers. Even postcards, would you believe, as well as holovids.”

“Postcards? What the hell are those?”

“Pictures printed on real cardstock. They used to send them with messages through the postal system, back in the olden days. There’s still a printer’s shop in New Sheffield with the old equipment. The hotel tried a sample range and they disappeared like snow on Midsummer’s day. I’m told Betans will love ’em.”

“I’ll leave all that up to you. It sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

“Katja’s not too impressed at the thought of me swaggering around with my sword and Vordagger,” Vorinnis told him. “I’ve been practising swishing my cloak. Gregor should issue them as standard kit. We compromised in the end. She gets her own private Vordagger demonstration and I promise not to take up any of the invitations.”

Ivan nearly choked. “Got to be good for something, after all. You’ll be fighting them off with a stick, if not your sword. The ImpSec squad out at Beta have had a similar problem, I hear.”

“We’ll probably have unemployed Vors lining up, once word gets round and the tourists arrive.”

“As long as we get the tourists here. I’m really relying on Raine to drum up some trade.”

“Ivan,” Vorinnis dropped his voice, “You know all those Vordagger books?”

He couldn’t resist. “You’re not asking me to kiss and tell, are you, Etienne? The answer is no. The only one written since she knew me is _Lord Vorperil’s Dungeon_.”

“That’s the best one,” Vorinnis looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment as he realised what he’d just implied. “Or so Katja tells me.”

Ivan clapped him on the shoulder. “Wait for the next one. That should be the best yet.”

Duv had been wandering around like a kid in a candy shop. “Ivan, I never thought I would see a bartizan outside of Vorhartung Castle. There’s two of them on your hotel!”

“Is that what you call them? I wouldn’t have a clue. They look good, though, don’t they? Good for spying on the populace back in the Time of Isolation."

“More than spying. Great for crossfire, too, from the arrowslits.”

“I did hear tell the old Counts used to use the hotel as a stronghold when they were collecting taxes. I can well believe it.”

Duv was going to get a crick in his neck at this rate. Ivan took hold of his arm. “Come and see what it’s like from the inside. You won’t have time to see the cellars today, but the rest of it is just as good.”

Mrs Williams, the landlady at _The Black Sheep,_ was dressed in the new livery of long skirt and bolero jacket in Voralys blue, with a wide-sleeved white shirt and silver embroidery. She looked proud enough to burst. Ivan made her come out from behind her desk and do a twirl for them.

“How do you like it?” He asked. “Is it wearable and practical?”

“Both, Count, and so _smart_! All the chambermaids and the tap boy are over the moon with theirs. Our visitors all want holos with us. We’ll be famous, soon.”

“I hope so. We should get some, what were they, Etienne? Postcards? yes, we should get postcards printed.”

“I’ll put it on the list, Count,” Vorinnis said.

“And you, too, with your Vordagger and your swirly cape. Won’t Katja be impressed at you being a pin-up boy?”

Ivan took Duv, Kou and Simon upstairs to show them the honeymoon suite while Etienne Vorinnis choked in the corner. He let them wander round for a few minutes. “So, what do you think, Duv? Will Delia like it here?”

Duv made very sure he didn’t look at Kou. “We’ve been offered the use of Vorkosigan Surleau, too, as well as the house at Bonsanklar, but I would like to start off where we can explore somewhere new together. Delia wasn’t brought up here. I’d really like it.”

Simon came back out to the bedroom from the bathroom, where he’d stared at the huge claw-footed enamel bath for a long time. “I wouldn’t mind staying myself at some point, if that didn’t cause you problems, Ivan. Perhaps in the winter?”

Ivan looked at Simon looking at the sheepskin rug stretched in front of the fireplace. His mind refused to go there. “Everyone’s welcome. I’m sure Miles and Ekaterin would like it too, at some point. Let’s book you in with Mrs Williams, Duv, and have some lunch.”

 

 


	28. Trying to be accommodating

 

 

The following night back at Voralys House Ivan collapsed into bed at last. Simon, Marie and his mother had been just as tired as he was, even though Marie had slept for most of the journey back. Leaving the three of them to get to bed Ivan escorted the Koudelkas to their front door and then dropped Duv off at his place, before swinging by Vorkosigan House to leave his parcel of Vordaggers with Roic, who was still pulling night duty. It had been a close-run thing getting ten of them ready for Cordelia, but luckily Wilkins only had to do the finishing and polishing and Ivan’s brilliant ladies coped with the embroidery in their stride. He’d picked up his tribute bag from them, too, at the same time. It looked very handsome. The leather work sheaths had been the main delay, but the saddler in Rotherhall had come good on that for him, after some emergency comconsole calls. The actual cost of these first ten, with the overtime and his lightflyer and armsmen chasing all over the District was probably astronomical, but that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t buy the publicity of the Vicereine taking them to Sergyar with her.

He groaned as his head hit the pillow. This Count business was too much like hard work, sometimes, and he didn’t much like his empty bed, either. Raine needed to come home _soon_. Right now wouldn’t be soon enough. Wally had kept him up to date, sending a bulletin every day. With the time lag, if he had done his sums right, she should be having her final surgery in little over a day. Another month and she could be home!

Thirty minutes later he was still wide awake. His brains were churning with all his duties and commitments and schemes and heavens only knew what else. He rolled out of bed and punched on his comconsole, calling up passenger liner schedules on the Beta to Barrayar run. There were six of them, ranging from the brand new _Empress Laisa,_ through the _Princess Olivia,_ the _Princess Sonia_ and the _Vicereine Cordelia_ to two older liners, the _Pride of Barrayar_ and the _Pride of Beta,_ each departing for the round trip once every six weeks. The old _Prides_ had been doing the runs for years. Miles had shipped out on the _Pride of Beta_ with Bothari when he was fifteen years old. He didn’t want Raine travelling on either of _them_. She might just scrape aboard the _Princess Olivia_ if she was well enough in time. He should book some berths on her, to be on the safe side. Perhaps the _Empress Laisa_ would be better, though. She was a bigger, faster ship with more capacity, and left only a week later. It was a difficult decision. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

_No._ Raine wouldn’t thank him for interfering, even with the best of motives. He’d best just send a message instead. He used the expedited delivery service which travelled at light speed all the way. Bugger the cost. He wanted Raine home.

_Book passage on_ Princess Olivia _. Can’t wait to see you. Ivan._

It was close to dawn before he finally slept, only to be woken by his alarm what felt like minutes later. He rolled over, then two minutes later cursed as Kosa knocked on his door.

“Waiting for you downstairs, sir.”

His running gear was all laid out for him. Swearing and muttering, Ivan dragged himself into it, stopping only to sluice his face with cold water. It was too easy to get into the habit of finding excuses. When he got downstairs Fox looked disgustingly cheery. He’d been as late to bed as Ivan, doing the taxi run the night before.

“What’s so good about it?” Ivan snarled, before Fox had even opened his mouth to wish him good morning.

Fox suppressed his grin. “Beautiful day outside, Count. It’s going to be hot later. _Without exercise, a good diet alone is not sufficient and eventually medical treatment will be needed.”_

“Which moron came up with that one?” Ivan wasn’t particularly mollified at Fox’s admonition as they all ran through their series of stretches before heading outside.

Fox palmed the door lock. “I do believe that was Hippocrates, sir.”

“Is he one of Nicolaides’ offsiders? It’s just like something he would say.”

Fox burst out laughing before sprinting ahead to clear the street down to the riverside running track. “Why don’t you ask him, sir?” He shouted over his shoulder.

By the time they got back Marie was awake and dressed for the day. She was sitting on the main staircase waiting for him. “Eww, My Ivan. You’re all sweaty. You need to attend to your personal hygiene.”

“You’ve been listening to Mamie again.” Ivan picked her up and cuddled her anyway. “I’m just off to do that right now. Have you had your breakfast, yet?”

Marie wiped her face on the hem of her dress. “No, I was waiting for you. Ma McIver said I could as you’d be back soon.”

“I’ll be ten minutes. Do you want to go down to the blue salon? I’ll see you there. Is Mamie awake?”

“No, she needs her sleep. Papi is going to take her a tray, he says, and have breakfast with her. He was just here to make sure I was safe.”

Was Marie still worrying? “And are you safe, princess?”

“Oh, yes, because Markie said nothing bad was ever going to happen to me in Voralys House except over his dead body and I saw him come in just now with you.”

Ivan looked at her in surprise. “When did Fox tell you that?”

“He didn’t tell _me_ , ’zactly, but he said it when I was sad and scared because Mamie went to the hospital. I didn’t want to get in the bath. Ma McIver asked Uncle Byerly what to do and he went to get Markie because I wasn’t just sad. Uncle Byerly said he could fix sad but we needed an armsman to fix scared. Markie stood outside the bathroom until I was all done.”

Ivan pinged Fox on his wristcom. He was going to get to the bottom of this. There was no answer for a while, then a somewhat breathless Fox came on. “Are you OK sir? I was just in the shower. I can be right there.”

“No, sorry, Fox. It can wait. Of course you were in the shower. See me in the blue salon in fifteen minutes, would you?”

Marie sat at the top of the stairs until he was done, so they walked down hand in hand. Kosa was ready to serve breakfast and Fox followed them in. He helped Marie into her seat and waited behind it. Ivan watched as Marie was served her groats and maple syrup. She’d conned her way to an extra serve of syrup the day before. It _wasn’t_ going to be a habit. Satisfied, he turned to Fox. “Marie tells me you guarded her bathroom the other day, Fox. What’s the story?”

“Oh, yes, sir.” He looked a bit guilty. “It’s all in the log but I did forget to mention it to you separately. Miss Marie heard one of the ImpSec men say something about poison when he came to sweep her room. It…er…spooked her, apparently. She sat in the big chair with Steggy and wouldn’t budge. She didn’t want anyone to take her away. Ma McIver called Byerly Vorrutyer and he called me. Miss Marie was happy to be guarded, in the end.”

“I see.” _Ivan_ wasn’t happy. “And what was the remark about over your dead body?”

Fox stood up straighter. “She heard that? I’m sorry, sir. Byerly Vorrutyer asked me how we’d got on and I told him Miss Marie was worried that something bad was going to happen. He said, ‘not in Voralys House, surely,’ and I said something bad would happen to Miss Marie in Voralys House over my dead body. I’m really sorry, sir.”

Ivan sighed. “Marie, didn’t you understand what Fox meant?”

Marie’s lip quivered. “Markie is my friend. I don’t want him to get in trouble or have a dead body.”

“No, he’s not in trouble, honey, but he’s my armsman. That means he needs to tell me things like this.”

Ivan tipped his head to Fox. “I think Marie needs a hug.”

Fox went down on one knee by her chair to wrap his arm around her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Marie. I should have just said you were very safe here and I’ll never let anything bad happen.”

“And you won’t die, will you?”

“No, I won’t. That’s what’s called a figure of speech. I didn’t really mean it. I was letting Vorrutyer know I was very serious about looking after you.”

Ivan ran his fingers through his hair. She was so smart he kept forgetting she was only six. “We’re all very serious, Marie. You are perfectly safe here, and Fox and I will discuss what he said later. Aren’t you going swimming with Papi Simon this morning? You finish your breakfast and Kosa will pour you some milk. After you drink that how about we go and ask Ma McIver to get you ready? Would you like Fox to go with you, too?”

_It was his own fault_. He should have read the armsmen’s log. He should have read the damn log every day since they started writing them. Inexperienced armsmen and an inexperienced Count meant stuff-ups like this would happen. He should have Ma McIver writing a log as well. The only thing they could make certain of was they’d never make the same mistake twice. The first thing on his agenda every day from now on was going to be the armsman’s log and then the nursery report. It was just by the grace of By Vorrutyer’s good nature in reading stories and telling her all about colours until she’d fallen asleep that she wasn’t any more upset than she had been about Mamie being taken away. It explained her being so insistent that his mother came home, too.

Speaking of By, he got Nicolaides to call him up on the comconsole. He looked to be back to his bleary-eyed self. Ivan still felt much the same, but for different reasons, he suspected. “Not back on that jungle juice, are you, By? I thought you’d learned your lesson.”

By groaned as he looked at his chrono. “Shit, Ivan, it’s not even 0930 hours! You have a very sadistic streak, do you know that?”

“Had another late night?”

“Burning the midnight oil, that’s me. Actually, it was work. Evelina Vortien was at the same party. She gave me an invitation I found I could quite easily refuse, _but_ she did say she was heading to Marcel Vorevreaux’s snake pit. He’s expecting to be resupplied quite soon, from what I can make out. I’ll let Miles know, once I get my second eye open. If there’s anything still getting through ImpSec’s fine tooth comb it’s got to have major security repercussions, unless the stash is actually on-planet. All too hard for my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

There was nothing Ivan could do about Auditorial investigations. He’d have to leave all that side of things up to Miles. “I’m sorry I woke you up, By. I’m just getting to the bottom of what actually happened with Marie when I dashed off to ImpMil. I had no idea how upset she’d been. I suppose I really just wanted to thank you again.”

By looked uncomfortable. He shrugged off Ivan’s attempt at thanks. “Think nothing of it. Actually, I need to thank _you_ for waking me up. I have an appointment with a member of the board of the Kareen Vorbarra Trust at 1200 hours. I’ll need to look my best for that.” He waited, expectantly. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it’s all about?”

“No, I have things to do and people to see. The Viceroy and Vicereine are leaving Vorkosigan House at 1200 hours to go back to Sergyar. I’m taking m’mother and Simon Illyan to go and see them off, and I have a list as long as my arm of jobs I have to get through before then. Talk to you later, By.”

Byerly tut-tutted and shook his head. “You’ll thank me when it’s too late. I’ll call round.” With a mock half-salute he cut the com.

Ivan promptly forgot about him. He had hundreds of families to find new accommodation for over in Prestwich, and less than two weeks to do it in. He could put a dozen families into the vacant armsmen’s accommodation in New Sheffield, but that was only a drop in the bucket. His budget wouldn’t run to putting them all up in hotels. It was all a bit of a facer now that he needed it actually happening. Nicolaides had been investigating for him. “Some good news and some bad, sir. It’s not six hundred families, as there were some vacant apartments and quite a few single people. We’ve been able to move almost a hundred families into vacancies in the other blocks. It leaves just under four hundred families to deal with.”

“Oh, is that all? Ivan didn’t want to sound too discouraged, but perhaps he’d been a bit optimisitic. He was only going to get the one chance to knock these buildings down, though.

“Most of the vacant buildings in Prestwich and New Sheffield are old factories. They’re very solidly built, but hardly family friendly. Some of them still do have functioning shower facilities, though. I talked to Wilkins while we were there. He had an interesting idea.”

Ivan wasn’t proud. He’d take all the help he could get. “I’m prepared to listen to anything.”

“Apparently the market at Prestwich is dreadful in the winter. The wind howls through and everything is very exposed. He had the idea of converting the old ground car factory into an undercover winter market. It has a massive floor space and good parking areas and access. Even the monorail is only three blocks away. But get this. There are about two hundred old shipping containers parked up in the lot. They’re easily convertible to living accommodation. We could get a hundred families moved in, with one container for living room and one for sleeping quarters. We just link them with a bathroom unit. They’re no uglier than where they’ve been living, and I’ve found another factory that can crank out the portable bathroom modules. It’s in New Sheffield, so it’s all District work. They’ve got thirty in store already and are just waiting for the chance to ramp up production. That’s twenty-five percent of your problem sorted in one hit. Plus, anyone who wants it can get work having the market up and running in time for winter. I thought it was genius.”

“I think I’m going to go broke, but go for it. Put the word out on the District newsvids, too, for any vacant accommodation. If we have to, we’ll have people living in combat shelters but that’s a last resort. It’s only the first tower that has to be vacant in two weeks. It takes at least a week for each tower to be prepared.”

“We can put combat shelters inside a couple of these steel mills. The warehouses where they kept the rail tracks are huge. I think that would work. Canvas for privacy and bricks and a solid roof for shelter.”

Ivan glanced at his chrono. “See what military surplus you can get a hold of for cheap. You must have contacts. Field kitchens, bunk units, mattresses, blankets, anything. I’ll leave it with you. I’ve got to run. Oh, but while I think about it, Fox told me to ask you about Hippocrates. Is he one of your friends?”

Nicolaides shook his head. “No sir. The only Hippocrates I’ve heard of was a doctor three thousand years ago.”

Ivan shrugged. “Weird. Perhaps Wally knows about him….Anyway, get me at Vorkosigan House if there’s an emergency.”

 

After Simon and Marie returned from swimming they all headed out for Vorkosigan House, including Lady Alys. They weren’t going to be accompanying Cordelia and Aral to the shuttleport, as Miles had whispered to him that other family members would be heading there. Ivan stood back with Marie to watch his mother and aunt hugging, but Aral came over to envelop him in one last great bear hug.

“See you at Winterfair. I can’t believe Miles is getting _married_. I never thought I, or he for that matter, would live to see the day. And don’t you be too far behind. You grab hold of that girl with both hands and start your own new dynasty.”

Ivan felt his throat close. “I plan to, sir. I’ve got no ambitions beyond that, so Miles had better start thinking about the twelfth Count pretty soon.”

“You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” With that somewhat cryptic remark Aral gave way to Cordelia, who was ready for a hug herself.

“Thanks for the daggers, Ivan. Just send the bill to Tsipis. That’s a neat touch you’ve done with the genuine parchment scroll certificate of authenticity. I thought I might keep one for Admiral Jole. He likes that sort of thing. I know he’s a prole but I can issue it to him.”

“You don’t have to, Aunt Cordelia. It’s five millimetres below small sword size. It’s allowed as a utility knife. It’s not designed as a weapon, after all, just a souvenir of Barrayar.”

“Let me give you a big kiss. I just love the way you think, Ivan. Look after Gregor and Miles for me, won’t you? You always have done and I don’t know why I’m asking. I just have…I don’t know, a _feeling._ Too many unfinished ends for me.” Her hug turned fierce. “Keep safe, Count.”

He kissed her back. “I will. My word as Voralys.”

Finally they were loaded in the huge ground car, with Pym driving and Jankowski riding shotgun with an ImpSec sergeant squeezed between them. Miles and Ekaterin went with them to the military shuttleport. Ivan stood with Alys and Simon to wave them off as an Impsec ground car led the way, followed by the armoured behemoth, then another car of armsmen behind that and finally a further ImpSec squad bringing up the rear. Municipal guard float bikes, sirens wailing and beacons flashing, cleared the intersections for them.

Only Roic was left behind in the chequerboard hallway. The house seemed to close in on itself with the charisma of Aral Vorkosigan no longer breathing life into the fabric. Ivan’s mother looked uncharacteristically melancholy. “Good friends, Ivan, and family, are more valuable than anything you can imagine. When will we see them again?”

“Nothing stopping you going to Sergyar, now, Mamère. Why don’t you plan on going back with them after Miles’s wedding? You should be fit and healthy again by then, and Simon would love Sergyar without all the security responsibility wearing him down. You’d both miss the worst of the winter that way.”

Simon smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ivan. We should think about it quite seriously.”

“After your weekend down in Rotherhall, don’t forget.”

“Oh, yes. That too. It’s an absolute luxury to have free time.”

Alys took hold of Simon’s arm. “Let’s go in. It’s so very dismal, don’t you think, to be moping around on the doorstep?”

Ivan had been holding onto Marie’s hand all the while the circus had been getting on the road. He tipped her a wink. “Quick! While Roic isn’t looking, I’ll show you how to slide down the bannister. Uncle Miles and I used to have races here.”

It was the perfect way to break his mother out of her unhappy mood.

 

When they returned to Voralys House By Vorrutyer had arrived. Simon and Alys shook hands but didn’t linger. By had brought a pink carnation for Marie and she took it from him with a giggle. “Uncle By, thank you. It’s so pretty!”

“Why don’t you go and show Ma McIver, Marie? It should go in some water. I have to talk to your Ivan and we might be a while.”

“Make sure you say goodbye before you go. I want to show you a picture.” Marie ran away clutching her flower. Fox followed her up the stairs, a quiet shadow she didn’t even notice.

“Wine, By?” Ivan led the way into his study. “Is this about the decorations?”

“In a way.” He waited while Harper poured wine for them, and took a sip. “The Kareen Vorbarra Trust for the Arts has made an offer for your carpet. I think it’s a fair offer, but I did have three valuations done. Due diligence, don’t you know? They’re scared you’re going to send it to auction but I said perhaps I could persuade you to let it go to the Museum of Barrayar for public display.”

Ivan looked at him. “By, what in three worlds are you on about? The Kareen Vorbarra Trust for the Arts wants to buy my old carpet?”

“I did try to tell you. Even seven hundred knots to the square inch meant nothing to you, did it?”

“Should it?”

“God give me strength.” By rolled his eyes. “Ivan, you’ve been offered two hundred thousand marks for your old carpet. It’s actually utterly priceless. The only other example like it is only half the size, and that’s in the Imperial Museum in Vorhartung Castle. It was rescued from The Residence after the fire.”

By liked to have his little joke. Ivan couldn’t see any harm in playing along. “So what were the three evaluations you had done?”

“Two hundred thousand was the lowest one. The curator at The Residence thought it would be worth at least a quarter of a million.”

That was a very funny look By was giving him. “You…you’re not actually serious, are you?”

By smacked the heel of his hand against his head. “If it wasn’t treason I’d thump you! I’m deadly serious. Your carpet is two hundred years old.”

 

 


	29. An equitable solution

 

 

Armsman Gerard burst through the door, stunner drawn and eyes narrowed. The wild howl that had penetrated to the outer office was a sound he’d never heard before. He pulled up short in abject amazement. His liege lord and master of three worlds sat with his head on his knees, tears streaming down his face, and…wheezing. There was no other word for it. His bride was doubled over the back of a chair. She was emitting more of a squeal than a howl. The source of the _howl_ lay flat on his back on the carpet. Yes, his heels were drumming against the floor. Captain Lord Auditor Miles Naismith Vorkosigan had abandoned himself to unholy mirth.

Captain Count Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys stood rigidly to attention, not in the least amused.

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t do it. It had nothing to do with me. It was that damned weasel Byerly Vorrutyer, I tell you, sire.”

Gregor pushed himself up to a sitting position, waving off Gerard. “Nobody’s being murdered tonight, Gerard, although I might die laughing. You’d better bring us something to drink.” He found a handkerchief and mopped his eyes before holding out his hand to his Empress. “Come and sit down here, please, love. I might need you.” After a few deep breaths he could face his cousin again.

“For goodness’ sake, sit down, Ivan. When you told me there was a Vorbarra family problem you needed to discuss in person I had no idea _this_ was what you meant. This isn’t Imperial business so we’re equals here tonight, Count to Count. You’d better start from the beginning. Let me get this right. It all started when there was an orgy on your carpet, you said?”

The Lord Auditor howled again. “The plan is perfect, you told me. Nothing can go wrong.” he managed to gasp out.

Ivan glowered down at his cousin. “The only unequal person here is you, Vorkosigan. You’re only a Count’s heir. If you don’t stop that noise and get up you’ll be out the door when Gerard comes back, and don’t think I can’t or won’t do it.”

Miles’s howls turned to whimpers, but he did as he was bid, crawling over to the lower armchair Gregor usually reserved for him. Ivan could see him bite his lip hard as Gerard came back into the room with a serving trolley and selection of drinks and nibbles and set about serving them all.

Gregor had regained control. Ivan ruefully had to admit that his predicament had been the one thing to banish his Emperor’s growing descent into near-despondency over the Vorresiak affair. He couldn’t remember _ever_ seeing Gregor laugh like that. He might never see it again, and actually it had been a tremendous privilege that he’d felt comfortable enough to let his ever-present guard down. Laisa looked like she’d discovered a whole new side to her husband, too. She regarded him with merriment but also a tender love that made Ivan’s own lonely heart ache.

“What, exactly, is your problem, Ivan?” Gregor asked, trying to be sincere, “apart from persuading Commodore Koudelka to accept two hundred thousand marks from you to pay for his daughters’ weddings, that is.” His breath shot out in a snort as he tried and failed to retain his impassivity. Miles turned an interesting shade of pink, but managed to stay quiet. For now.

Ivan sat down at last, trying to relax. “Gregor, it’s your mother’s money. Granted, By never told the trust who his client was, but it will look all _wrong_ to outsiders.”

Gregor shook his head. “It’s my mother’s _memorial_ money. The Lord Regent set up the trust with reparation funds from Vordarian. The Crown Princess never had much money of her own. There hasn’t been a truly outstanding piece come on the market for a few years and the bank interest has built up. They can afford to buy your carpet, Ivan. Don’t worry about that.”

Laisa hadn’t said much, but a look of sudden horror came over her face. “It’s all very well you three killing yourselves laughing—”

Ivan opened his mouth to object. _He_ was yet to see the funny side, mostly, but Laisa held up her hand to stop his protest. “—but who is it who’s going to have to go to the opening, or the unveiling, or the whatever you’ll call it, when this thing goes on exhibition? It’ll be _me_ , as the new patron of the trust, and I’ll have to stand there and not think about what went on and why Ivan got rid of it in the first place!”

It was too much. Even Ivan had to laugh at the mental picture. Miles wailed and Gregor hid his head in his wife’s shoulder. His shoulders heaved. Laisa’s squealing giggle set off another round of guffaws.

“Oh, my sides ache.” Laisa tried and failed to stop laughing.

Even as he dealt with the enchanting view as his Empress’s chest heaved with laughter Ivan still wasn’t quite easy. “I really don’t understand how a carpet can be worth that much. If it’s only two hundred years old why is it so rare, anyway?”

Gregor took a deep, calming breath. “I’m not an antiquarian. Professora Vorthys is one of the trustees, though, and I’m happy to accept her judgement. Let me call up the report and we’ll see what the chairperson had to say about it.”

Gregor crossed to his desk and flicked a few buttons. He skimmed the report. The smile faded from his face as he stopped and went back to read a section again. He looked uncertainly from Ivan to Miles.

“Ah. This complicates things a little. When I got the request from the trust to disburse the funds they had no idea who the owner was. Vorkosigan House was looted by the Cetas, remember. The then Count Vorclarence wasn’t exactly a collaborator, but he managed to stay mostly on their good side. _His_ house was spared.”

Miles sat up rather straighter. His laughter faded too. “What’s this got to do with the Vorkosigans?”

“Ivan, Miles,” Gregor swallowed. “I don’t know what to say, other than it’s going to be a shock. The carpet comes from Vorkosigan Vashnoi. According to this report they were only ever made for the Counts, or possibly a daughter or two as dowry gifts. There might still be one at the long lake, not that I remember one there, and one smaller one was given to Dorca by the Old General’s father. That’s the one at Vorhartung. The rest were all in Vashnoi.”

Miles stared blankly at Ivan. “I think the sixth Count’s daughter might have married a Vorclarence heir, but if I remember rightly she died in childbirth and the baby with her. He married again and it was that Count’s great grandson who held the District for Gregor as an old man, during the Pretender’s war.”

Ivan couldn’t believe it. “You’ll have to have it back. I can’t sell it to the Vorbarra Trust. It’s not mine.”

They all looked at Miles. “No.” He disagreed. He jumped up and started pacing, trying to marshal his thoughts.

“I’m sure Da would agree with me. The Old Count, maybe not. It’s yours, and now it’s going to belong to the whole of Vorbarr Sultana, and the Empire. Everyone can see it, and get just an idea of what was lost. I can’t think of a better legacy for Vashnoi. Perhaps, down the track a few years, it could go on loan to Hassadar museum.”

“We need to talk to Kou.” Gregor looked at his chrono. “It’s still not late. I’ll see if he’s home and I can send an ImpSec lightflyer for him if he is.” He punched in the Koudelka’s code from memory and waited only a few seconds before Drou answered.

“Gregor! Is something wrong, Sire? Do you need to speak to me, or Kou? It’s not Aral, is it?”

“No, no! Nothing like that. Nothing’s wrong, but if your husband is at home I have Miles and Ivan here and we’d like to speak to him, in person. I’ll send a lightflyer over and tell him he is requested and required _not_ to change his dress. Whatever he’s wearing will be fine.”

“Maybe he’ll want to take his slippers off,” Drou grinned as Kou appeared over her shoulder.

“Fine. You can put your boots on, Kou. The flyer should be there in a few minutes. Sorry for stealing your husband, Droushie.”

Her face softened to a loving smile. “Any time, Gregor. We’re yours to command.”

With another punch of numbers he called up the duty ImpSec team and sent them winging their way to pick up the commodore. He sat back in his chair. “This is going to be interesting. Let’s see what happens.”

After another drink all round Laisa chatted to Ivan and Miles while Gregor excused himself to snatch a few minutes to look at his never-ending correspondence. It was only a short wait until Gerard showed Kou into the office. He looked bewildered, but at least he was wearing his boots. Gregor abandoned his paperwork. “Would you like to tell Kou the good news, or should I do it, Ivan?” Gregor asked after he’d shaken hands and Kou was seated and given a drink. Miles’s cryptic comment of _you might need this_ as he handed the glass over didn’t lessen his apprehension.

Ivan didn’t feel quite up to the task. His last conversation with Kou was still fresh in his memory. “You do it, please, Sire” he replied.

“Kou, do you remember Ivan’s promising you the proceeds of a certain carpet sale to go towards the cost of Delia’s wedding?”

“I was never happy with that,” Kou said, sitting up straight and putting his glass down, “but we made a deal. We shook hands on it, in fact. May I ask why you’ve found it necessary to discuss it here, Sire?”

“Well, Kou, I don’t quite know how to put this.” Gregor was enjoying himself. Ivan could see the gleam in his eye. “You see, the fact is, the proceeds of the carpet sale amount to two hundred thousand marks.”

It was a good job Kou had put his drink on the side table. His breath caught in his throat and he started coughing. Miles obligingly patted him on his back. Gregor went on. “Technically, the whole lot is yours. Ivan is worried you won’t thank him for it.”

“I am not accepting _two hundred thousand marks_ , and that is final.” Kou glared at Ivan.

“We thought you might say something like that,” Gregor acknowledged, “but what we need to decide is what’s best to do with it.”

Ivan had been thinking. “It’s really District money, but we never would have had a clue about the damn carpet if it hadn’t been for Byerly Vorrutyer. I think he should get a finder’s fee.”

“I’m happy with that, but I disagree on it being District money if it was a wedding dowry. That was a family affair, and the Council of Counts granted you the entire Vorclarence estate. It’s your money, Ivan,” Gregor told him.

“I don’t want the damned money, either,” Ivan protested, “but how about this? Fifty percent to the Hassadar hospital’s radiation treatment centre, ten percent to Kou, ten percent to By and I’ll use thirty percent as I see fit.”

Gregor stared hard at Kou, who saw the look and acquiesced without a protest. Miles crossed over to shake Ivan’s hand. His eyes were very bright. “Thank you, Ivan. I accept on behalf of my father, District and the people still suffering. It’s a truly wonderful gesture. We’ll have to name a building after you. Just one request, please?”

“No names, no pack drill. What’s the request?”

Miles’s broad grin broke out again. “May I please be there when you hand over twenty thousand marks to By Vorrutyer?”

Gregor bit his lip. “What are you going to do with your sixty thousand, Ivan?”

“I should be able to get a first-class manager for my paint factory for that,” he said. “If he doesn’t earn his salary in the first year he can forget the second one.”

 

Miles appeared at Voralys House not long after breakfast time. Marie and Simon had gone for their swimming lesson, Lady Alys was teaching all available armsmen the finer points of flower arranging and Ivan had just finished reading his armsmen’s log. Fox showed the Lord Auditor into Ivan’s study.

“Morning, coz. Did you get on to Byerly Vorrutyer, yet?”

“Nicolaides is going to contact him at 1000 hours. By doesn’t appreciate being disturbed any earlier than that. All the funds have cleared into my bank account overnight and I’ve got a chit all ready for him.”

Ivan opened a drawer and took out another card. “And here, Lord Vorkosigan, may I present your District with a gift of one hundred thousand marks to be used for the benefit of Hassadar hospital and its radiation research facility.”

Miles turned all noble on him. “My House and my District thank you for your wonderful gift, Count Voralys. On my word as Vorkosigan this generosity will never be forgotten.”

“Yes, well, sit down, why don’t you? I’ll send Nicolaides here for some coffee and you can give me the latest report.” He turned to his secretary. “Philip, let Ma Belka know the Lord Auditor is here, and hold the coffee until I buzz for you, will you, please?”

“Certainly, Count.” Nicolaides bowed to Miles and left the pair of them in peace.

“Has that bastard poked his nose out of his den, yet?” Ivan asked when the door closed behind his secretary. “Raine’s had her second lot of surgery and I want her home.”

Miles sighed. “Vorresiak? Not a squeak. The Vorbataille-Vorevreaux drug cartel case is coming together quite well. We’ve got enough to hang Vorevreaux right now but it’s Vorbataille we really want to catch, and alive, of course. By’s been of immense help in breaking this open. He’s given us names, dates, times and places. He can’t get any further up the chain than Vorevreaux at this stage, though. Evelina Vortien is well-involved. I don’t see any way to save her, at this point.”

“She’s giving me nightmares, Miles. She’s only about fourteen years older than Marie. How can it go so badly wrong so soon?”

Miles shrugged. “We may have cursed our mothers for being overprotective, Ivan, but the both of them actually _cared_ about us. We’d have been packed off to happy therapy on Beta at the first whiff of drugs or loose women.”

Ivan demurred. “No, it was just _Uncle Aral_ therapy for the loose women, and there was nothing happy about that. He scared me shitless. Didn’t really stop the loose women, though.”

“He would have if you’d been in any real danger, and that’s the difference. Lord Vortien is bad enough, but have you seen his wife?”

“I…um…I may have, once or twice, in passing.”

Miles stared at him in horror. “Ye gods, Ivan! And you let the daughter in your house? Well, at least she’s too old to be yours, isn’t she?”

Ivan did some rapid sums in his head. “Can’t be mine. I would only have been eleven or twelve.”

“Marie’s going to be _so_ good for you. Karma is a funny thing. You’ll be old and grey with worry by the time you’re forty-five, and we’ll all roll around laughing watching you.”

“Speaking of which, what the hell was so funny last night? I’ve never seen you _literally_ rolling around laughing before.”

“Just your face.” Miles started chuckling again. “Oh, quick. Think of something else before I wet myself.”

Ivan rang for coffee. “Not on my carpet, if you don’t mind.”

Nicolaides entered to find them both weeping with laughter.

 

By Vorrutyer wasn’t expecting to see Miles waiting for him in Ivan’s study. His expression immediately became a bit more guarded as he tried to gauge the mood of the meeting. “Good morning, Ivan. I take it this isn’t about decorating,” he said, giving Miles a nod and settling at the opposite corner of the desk from where Miles sat.

Ivan smiled. “It is and it isn’t. I talked to the Emperor last night, By. Miles was there and Commodore Koudelka as well, briefly. Gregor approved the arrangements I made for the disbursement of the funds.”

“Kou didn’t grab it, then? I would have. A deal’s a deal.”

“Fortunately Commodore Koudelka is made of stronger moral fibre than you, Vorrutyer. He did agree to accept ten percent, so that was a win for us. Also, in what is going to be a win for you, too, the Emperor approved a finder’s fee.”

By stopped lounging in his chair in a big hurry. “He did what?”

Ivan passed the chit across his desk. “He approved a twenty thousand mark finder’s fee for you, By.”

“I can’t take that!” By looked at the chit like it was going to burn him.

“You just said you would have taken all two hundred thousand.”

“I did, didn’t I, but that wasn’t in any expectation of _actually_ being offered anything. This is your money, Ivan.”

“I would have chucked that carpet on a bonfire, the state it was in. This is fair, By. Please take it.”

Miles chimed in. “Did you _know_ where that carpet was made, By?”

“No, but looking at you, I’d say Vorkosigan Vashnoi.”

He was always quick on the uptake. Miles nodded. “Got it in one.”

By eyed the chit. “Are you quite sure, Ivan?”

Ivan pushed it further towards him. “Imperial edict, By. Go on. I think you deserve it.”

Somewhat dazed, By slipped the chit into an inside pocket.

Ivan looked at Miles. “So, what do you reckon?”

“I’ll find my hat. Drinks are on you for the first time in your life, Vorrutyer. Mine’s a double.”

 

 


	30. Things that go boom.

 

 

There was nothing more satisfying than a very loud boom when it wasn’t being pointed in your direction. Colonel Otto had indulged his men with a little bit of whimsy just this once and used different coloured flares from the roof to signal the countdown. The brilliant green, yellow and red parachute flares lit the sky and the surrounding buildings with their eerie colours. The red were still descending as the tower imploded. Poker-faced, Otto confined himself to a satisfied nod. It was left to his second in command, Captain Roux, to return Ivan’s high five in a very non-military manner. Whooping and hollering penetrated the reinforced command centre from the troops and invited locals in the general viewing area. There was another loud buzz of excitement inside the command centre itself. It was really quite amazing the number of people who had discovered a vital need to supervise Colonel Otto’s efforts, culminating in not one but two Lords Auditor. Ivan suspected Gregor would have been there himself if he could have thought of a good enough excuse. He should invite him down for the last one, when the novelty had worn off and the crowds weren’t so intense. General Allegre and Colonel Lord Vortala the younger would probably enjoy the trip, too.

Admiral Desplains, Colonel Ushakov and half of the Ops HQ top brass had squeezed in but had the sense to stay well out of the way of the man in charge. Ivan could only hope the Cetas hadn’t got wind of this. It would be the perfect time to launch a strike and disable Ops in one blow. Lord Auditor Vorthys naturally had a very keen interest in the process and hadn’t hesitated to invite himself along, but Lord Auditor Vorkosigan was just a sticky beak who couldn’t bear to miss a good show. At least Ivan could see the action over the top of his head. He’d given him charge of Marie while he dealt with the VIPs. Miles still owed him, after all. It looked like the two of them had had a great time, Marie on her step-stool with her ear defenders on, and Miles sneaking up to join her at the critical moment.

Ivan stared at the central tower to the north of the blast zone. The buzz of conversation behind him faded as he watched with bated breath. There it was! As the dust cleared and dropped and the last flares faded, the windows on the facing facade reflected, one by one, the yellow-red glow of sunlight, probably for the first time ever for the lower levels. Ivan didn’t think the others in the room realised the significance, but anyone from Prestwich in the viewing area surely did.

He’d managed to recover from the shock Ekaterin had given him with her solution to the lack of vegetation. On consideration, it was a brilliant idea. Tubs of _strangle vines_ on the roofs, of all the crazy things to pick, would soften the stark facades in no time. They needed no attention, weren’t going to compete with any precious crops in this sterile plascrete wasteland and would even help with sound attenuation.

“Send the safety teams in, please, Captain,” Otto ordered, bringing Ivan back to his surroundings. He finally had time to talk to him. The colonel looked grimly pleased.

“Once upon a time I would have been sure every child in Barrayar had grown up with a toy grav tractor and a dump truck, playing in a sand pit, but that was before I saw this place. I’ve got a squad of volunteers making toys as fast as they can turn them out. We’re going to build a sand pit in the middle of the skate float track and all the kiddies here can grow up wanting to join the Imperial Engineers. This has to be the best recruiting demonstration ever.” He finally cracked a grin. “Or that’s what I told Admiral Desplains, anyway. It looks like Ushakov wants to talk to me. Would you excuse me, please?"

Once the force fields protecting the towers had been turned off and the safety teams cleared the area, families began to return to their apartments. It would probably take a month to clear the rubble, but the massive earth movers were beginning to rumble on site already. Chalmers, the ex-armsman who had taken over the municipal guard in Prestwich, had flagged a dedicated roadway direct to the local tip site. There’d be a non-stop convoy running there as fast as the earth movers could load the dump trucks.

Miles brought Marie back over to join him. Her eyes were still very wide. “That was ’ _stonishing_ , My Ivan. The colours were beautiful.”

“Colonel Otto did a very good job, didn’t he?”

She nodded vehemently. “Can I say thank you to him?”

Ivan glanced around. Otto was _still_ talking to Colonel Ushakov and looked like he’d rather be doing something else. “I don’t see why not. It’s my party, after all. Let’s take the Lord Auditor with us. Nobody can complain we’re interrupting when he’s there.”

“I’m so glad I have my uses,” Miles muttered as they walked over.

“You make a good door stop, too,” Ivan replied. “Don’t forget nobody invited you.”

“Gregor wanted a full report,” Miles protested.

“Yes, and Lord Auditor Vorthys would be the ideal person to do that, don’t you think? He’d actually know what was involved in all of this. I suppose you can listen to the gossip. How many weasels have you got down here, anyway?” He broke off the decades-old battle as Colonel Otto turned slightly to include them in his conversation.

“Colonel, may I introduce my ward, Miss Marie Watson? She’d like to have a word, if she may. My cousin has a question for Colonel Ushakov, so we’ll just excuse ourselves while they talk.”

The colonel was very prompt to accept the rescue. “If you’ll excuse me, Ushakov? Miss Marie, how do you do?”

He gravely shook Marie’s hand. She smiled at him, her whole face lighting up as it always did. Miles subtly moved out of earshot, turning Ushakov so that he had his back to them.

“I wanted to say thank you very much for knocking down the building. It was…” her limited vocabulary struggled to think up a suitable superlative, “…the bestest thing ever to see. Do all the colours last for the same amount of time? I thought the green lasted longer.”

Otto looked in surprise to Ivan, then back. “Did you notice that? The flares have different metals in them to produce the colours. Green is a metal called barium, yellow is sodium and red is strontium. We don’t use the straight metals, though. With the green flares the chemical is barium chlorate, and chlorates burn for longer than carbonates, which were in the other two. It’s very hard to spot when they’re not set off at the same time.”

“Well, the green was still burning when the yellow one went off, but the yellow wasn’t still burning when the red one went off,” she explained.

Otto gave her a delighted smile. “Remarkable observation! Most of my soldiers won’t have noticed that. We’ll make an engineer of you yet, Miss Marie.”

“Thank you, but I want to be a painter. I’m going to do a drawing of the flares for My Ivan. Would you like one, too?”

“I think that would look remarkably good in my office. I’ll look forward to it.”

Ivan judged it time to intervene. “We’ll let the colonel go and have a drink of tea, shall we, and I’ll find you some juice. He’s still got a lot of work to do.”

There was the odd grumble in the reception area that there was no wine or liquor, but Ivan was unrepentant. “If the men doing the work can’t drink, all the hangers-on shouldn’t be able to drink, either. They can go and buy their own in one of my bars. The District needs the revenue.”

Miles had caught up with him again as he said this to Professor Vorthys, who nodded in agreement. “Very sensible, Count. There’s a time and a place for drinking. Using heavy machinery isn’t it. What plans do you have for the other squares?”

“Well, Voralys Square here will have the float skate track and I do believe a sand pit. Vorbarra Square will have lawn and trees with a fountain in the centre. Vorthys Square can have whatever you care to sponsor.”

He said it with a perfectly straight face. The professor roared with laughter. “Excellent idea, Count. Let me confer with my dear wife and I’ll get back to you.”

“No, sir, I was only joking. No reason why we can’t have a Vorkosigan Square, though, and the last one will be Vorpatril Square. How about it, Miles? You can come up with something to honour the Count your father’s visit.”

Lord Auditor Vorthys insisted. “No, I’d be happy to invest in the future of your District, Ivan. Perhaps something fairly modest, though.”

“That’s very kind. What about an adventure playground, sir? Trees and ropes and climbing frames, that kind of thing. What are you going to pay for, Miles? Maybe a jack-in-the-box?”

Miles pulled a face. “I’d be happy to contribute a running track, if that would fit in with your plans, or maybe fitness equipment. Why don’t you ask the locals what they want?”

“Thank you. I will.” _Got him_

Very well pleased with himself, Ivan judged it time to change the subject. “You’ll both be going to this do Gregor is putting on, I suppose, for Ambassador Almeida?”

Miles pulled a face. “The Escobarans are a touchy lot. We’ll be there with bells on. I’m bringing Ekaterin. Have you got a date?”

“No. I’ve had plenty of suggestions, however, from every doting mama in Vorbarr Sultana and all points north and south, not to mention east and west. Nicolaides has been fielding invitations all week. I _think_ Gregor wants me to entertain Senhorita Arabella Almeida, the ambassador’s daughter. That’s the excuse I’m using, anyway. What about you, professor?”

“Yes, Helen and I are to talk to members of the trade delegation the ambassador is sponsoring. It will be somewhat soporific, but I have been promised chocolate pecan torte, so it may not be a total loss. …If you’ll excuse me, it looks like Colonel Otto is finally free of that tedious bore McCaffery. Technical expert he is _not_ , whatever the University tries to say. He’s managed to get himself attached to General Desplains as an advisor. I shall have to have a word with him about that.”

Miles and Ivan were left with Marie, who was understandably bored of all the adults talking above her head. “Ma McIver is waiting for you, sweetheart, and Fox is going to take you home when you say the word. The rest of the afternoon is going to be all talk and no fun. You can go back and start drawing pictures.”

“Grown ups are boring, sometimes, My Ivan,” Marie said. “They’re not like you.”

Miles managed to keep his hilarity under control until Marie had been safely delivered to Ma McIver and Fox. “So when do you propose to grow up, Ivan?” he cackled when Marie had gone. “She’s a very acute observer, as Colonel Otto pointed out before. She’s got you all worked out.”

Ivan looked down at Miles. Should he make the obvious comment? No, perhaps not. Perhaps he _was_ grown up, after all. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have hesitated. “How are the wedding preparations coming along?”

“All the invitations have gone out. Yours should be on your desk when you get back to VS. I don’t know exactly where the fleet is, but they’ll need plenty of notice.”

Ivan knew exactly which fleet he meant, and it wasn’t Gregor’s. Well it was, really, but somewhat incognito. “You invited _Elli Quinn_? What’s Ekaterin going to think?”

“I invited Elli, and Taura, and Arde Mayhew. I hope Elena is going to come. She swore she’d never set foot on Barrayar again, but surely, she’ll come for my wedding? I’ve talked to Gregor about Baz. I think he’s going to grant him a pardon. Ekaterin knows about Elli. She said…she said she’d rather be my last lover than my first one.”

“She said that?”

“She did. She’s remarkable, Ivan. Just wonderful. I can’t think about my life without her.” He’d actually turned pale. His eyes weren’t seeing anything in the room, either.

“Well, you don’t have to, do you? Nothing’s going to go wrong this time. There’s nothing and nobody going to stop her marrying you now.”

He didn’t look convinced. He looked like some awful Nemesis was about to descend on him like a carrion crow. Trust Miles to plummet into one of his funks. He was just about _wishing_ doom and disaster on himself.

Ivan poked him in the shoulder. “Oi! Vorkosigan. Stop it. I can soon enough find some ice, you know.”

“Oh…” Miles looked dazed for a moment. “Sorry, Ivan.” He made a determined effort. “So, is Raine on her way home, yet?”

“Last I heard they were frantically trying to organise packing in time to catch the _Princess Olivia_. Apparently Raine is bringing some extra people with her, if they can get their act together in time. All the surgery went well. Wally’s happy with the way everything’s gone.”

“That’s good news. So, tell me. What did you end up doing with all the people you had to move out?”

“It was the damnedest thing. Nicolaides had the bright idea of advertising for accommodation. Who’d have thought? There were invitations coming out of our ears. Everybody wants to see these towers come down in Prestwich. People have been screaming foul in New Sheffield. They want theirs gone as well and they think I’ve forgotten about them over there. Not true, of course. The funniest bit is putting up six families in the Vorclarence Dower House. I had no idea I even owned the place until one of Vorclarence’s ex-armsmen, Sheridan, sent me a message to tell me about it. It’s nearly as big as Sheffield House itself. They have to do all their own cooking and cleaning but they were all neighbours from two floors and best of friends, so they tell me. We’ll see.”

“They’re not going to steal the wallpaper, are they?”

Ivan shrugged. “Who knows? It’s only temporary. I’ve got crews converting commercial premises as fast as I can go. I’ve also got my paint factory up and running. There were over three hundred applications for thirty jobs, can you believe? I _have_ to find something for all these people to do.”

“You’ll think of something. I’ve been awestruck by your ingenuity so far. I never would have—” He stopped short.

Ivan sucked in a pained breath. “Never would have believed it? Why should you?”

Ivan turned to walk off but Miles held him back. “Ivan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way! You know I didn’t.”

Ivan looked down at Miles’s hand on his arm, urgently clutching his sleeve. Very gently, he peeled the fingers away. “No, Miles, you never do, do you? Excuse me please. I need to talk to Colonel Otto.”

 

The night of the ambassador’s reception, Armsman Kosa smoothed Ivan’s best House uniform across his shoulders and adjusted the fit of his sword belt.

“Very smart, Count.”

“Thank you, Kosa.” He dredged up a smile. Kosa didn’t deserve to be on the end of his bad temper. He’d been in a surly mood ever since the demolition. He couldn’t really blame Miles, though; he was always an insensitive twat. It had been stupid to let him get under his skin, just when everything was going so well. Ivan knew exactly what the main problem was. He hadn’t heard from Raine, or Wally, or even Vorberg, in days. Passenger lists were classified and he didn’t have the clearance to ask for them. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could request Miles, or even Simon, to pull strings for. _Surely_ they could have sent a message from Escobar? They had to have cleared there by now. Just before Fox brought the groundcar around he checked his comconsole again. _Nothing_.

The Residence was as glittering and spectacular as it always was. As Ivan cleared security he could see Lady Vorpadilla _lurking_ behind the potted palm standing to one side of the corridor leading to the reception room. He was not in the mood for Lady Vorpadilla or her bran-faced offspring. Lady Eugenia fancied herself a countess. What a joke.

“Count Voralys! What a delightful surprise!”

“Didn’t you expect to see me here tonight, Lady Vorpadilla? The Emperor’s guest list is usually published in the Court Gazette.”

She slapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh, Count! You are so _droll_! I just mentioned to my daughter Eugenia how wicked your sense of humour is. She’s positively terrified of you, don’t you know? She ran away just the very second she saw you coming.”

“Well, Lady Vorpadilla, I can see _you_ coming as clear as day, and I’m terrified, too. If you’ll excuse me, please, I’m requested and required to attend upon his Imperial Majesty.”

He strode off down the corridor, leaving the gawping woman in his wake. No doubt she’d be trying to tittle-tattle to Mamère at the first opportunity. She’d be out of luck. Mamère was recuperating at the Koudelka’s house at Bonsanklar after her thyroid transplant. Empress Laisa and Delia Koudelka had managed the whole of tonight’s arrangements between them.

Speaking of which, Laisa and Gregor stood in the receiving line alongside the Escobaran ambassador, his wife and the mysterious Arabella. Laisa looked more beautiful than ever tonight. She’d chosen a formal Komarran outfit, with sweeping wide-legged pants and a glittering, swirling concoction of a jacket in two shades of blue. Proud as punch, Gregor stood at her side.

“Ivan! Good to see you! In good time, too. Your Excellency Ambassador Almeida, Senhora Almeida and Senhorita Almeida, may I present Count Voralys? Ivan, I think Senhorita Arabella has done enough penance tonight. Would you like to show her the portrait of Lord Midnight? You might like to explain why he has such a long face?”

Ivan clicked his heels and bowed to the ambassador. “If Your Excellency permits?”

The ambassador waved his permission. “Of course, Count. We have just been listening to her Royal Highness telling us about the fabulous new exhibit at the Vorbarr Sultana museum we must on no account miss. I hope you will be able to tell my daughter a little more about it.”

Ivan looked at Laisa. He kept his face poker straight. “Was the opening today? I’m sorry to have missed it.”

“Yes indeed. It rather…er…took my breath away.”

 Ivan held out his arm for Arabella. “You must tell me about the voyage from Escobar. Are you enjoying Barrayar so far?”

 The enchanting Arabella peeped at him through her eyelashes. “I do believe I shall enjoy the evening immensely, Count. Everyone has been so kind.”

Arabella was a shocking flirt. She was worse. She was a bold-faced hussy, from the top of her dusky curls to her gold-painted toenails. After her screaming with laughter at the portrait of Lord Midnight with his long face Ivan spent half of the night fending off her less-than-subtle advances. Not even a long talk with Professor and Professora Vorthys could prise her from his side. They’d just ventured to visit the buffet table for the third time when there was a subtle bustle in the room. Ivan saw some of the ImpSec agents spring into action. Miles crossed the floor to speak in a low voice to Gregor, then look around the room for Pym, standing unobtrusively near the door. They exchanged a silent message and Pym walked quickly out of the room, not panicked but obviously keen to make haste. Miles followed him not long after.

Ivan guided Arabella back to her parents. “A delightful evening, Your Excellency. I must just have a word with the Emperor.”

Without making it too obvious, he strolled over to Gregor. “Something I can assist you with, Sire?” He asked.

Gregor’s expression didn’t change. “I fear not, Ivan. I’ve sent Miles to investigate. Apparently the _Princess Olivia_ has been hijacked.”

 

 


	31. You IDIOT, Ivan

 

 

To hell with protocol. Ivan took off running. An alert but startled Fox followed him down the corridor, yelling on his wristcom for Harper to bring the ground car around from the parking garage.

“We have to find Miles,” Ivan shouted over his shoulder. His cousin hadn’t been running. Perhaps he could just catch him…

Ivan nearly flattened the Lord Auditor, who had stopped at the security check point to read a report just coming in. Ivan pulled up inches short of cannoning into him.

“Ivan, what the—”

“Raine’s on the _Princess Olivia!_ How the hell do we get out there?”

“Calm down, Ivan. _We_ don’t do anything. ImpSec is handling it. We wait, right now.”

Ivan took hold of Miles by the front of his tunic with both fists and hauled him up face to face. “Wait? Are you out of your fucking mind? _Wait_? It’s Raine, and she’s been _hijacked_. I’m not waiting for anything.”

“Put him down, sir, _Right now_.” Pym had his stunner out, his voice loud and cold with deadly menace. Fox grabbed Ivan’s arm. He tried to place himself in the line of fire of the palace guards.

“Stop, sir, please. Let Lord Vorkosigan go. This isn’t going to help.”

“Stand down!” His shout sharp with fear, Miles ordered Pym and the ImpSec squad, brandishing nerve disruptors, not stunners, to wait. “Ivan, they’ll kill you! For god’s sake!”

Miles feared for _him_ , not his own safety. The genuine terror in his cousin’s voice penetrated Ivan’s panic. He put Miles back on his feet, smoothing down the front of his tunic with shaking hands.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s _Raine_ , Miles.”

“Are you sure she was aboard? I’m waiting for the passenger list. There’s no report from Vorberg.”

“What?” He couldn’t think. _Was_ he sure? “I sent her a message. Told her to book the _Olivia._ I haven’t heard since.”

“Fox, get him home. There’s nothing he can do here.”

Over his dead body, but it very nearly had been. The ImpSec goons were still looking very hostile. One stood so close to him they probably couldn’t get a flimsy between them. “No, I’m not going home. I’m OK now, Miles. I haven’t heard from Raine, or Wally. Can you at least check if Vorberg has reported in?”

Miles put a hand on Ivan’s arm. “I remember—Ekaterin was in terrible danger, not so long ago. I _do_ know what it’s like, Ivan. We’ll find her. And if she’s come to any harm, I promise you this whole nexus won’t be safe from the Emperor’s vengeance.” His voice dropped, dripping with icy menace. “Or mine.” He turned to the conconsole with brisk determination. “Let me find Vorberg’s reports.”

Ivan shifted from one foot to the other, waiting. He tried to do some deep breathing, but it didn’t work too well. He could charter a courier, be there in days…

Miles looked up from the comconsole. “Ivan, Vorberg’s made no mention of the _Princess Olivia_. His last weekly report just mentions awaiting passage back to Barrayar.”

“What? When was that dated?” It was too hard to do the sums and conversions in his head. He couldn’t think straight. The only thing he could concentrate on was Raine and the danger she could be in. Miles didn’t have the same difficulty. Suddenly his body language changed. His shoulders relaxed.

“Ivan, she can’t have been on the _Olivia_. This report is dated the same day the ship departed the Beta transfer station. If Vorberg was at the embassy, it’s several hours travel from planetside to the transfer station. That would have been cutting it way too fine. You know passengers have to be there three hours before departure. She _must_ have missed it.”

Curious guests were beginning to filter past them. Ivan saw with horror Lady Vorpadilla and Lady Eugenia bearing down upon them. He snapped out an order. “Hold them off, Fox. Emperor’s business, here.”

Miles switched to Auditor mode before his eyes. “I’ll let you know for sure as soon as that damned passenger list gets to me. Ivan, I need you to escort Ekaterin home. God knows what she’s thinking by now. Just tell her…well, you know. If it’s on the news vids you can tell her about Raine, but not before. Fox can find her for you. You wait here.”

He pulled Ivan into the little security office beside the checkpoint. “Come on, coz. Try to look normal. Whatever happened was days ago and lightyears away. I’ll just be going out there to—” he stopped short as he thought twice about what he’d been about to say. “To get to the bottom of things.”

Ivan knew exactly what he was going to say. “You mean you’re going out there to pick up the pieces.”

Miles didn’t say anything more. He just squeezed Ivan’s shoulder and disappeared.

Having successfully deflected the Vor Dragon and her daughter Fox departed to find Ekaterin. He returned, ten minutes later, with Armsman Gerard, who spoke as calmly as if this sort of thing happened all the time. It probably did.

“Madame Vorsoisson is awaiting the Emperor in his private sitting room, Count. You’re invited to join her there, and the Emperor and Empress will arrive as soon as they’ve farewelled the ambassador’s party. Your hasty departure was explained as a sudden indisposition. No offence was taken. If you could please come this way?”

_Shit_. He’d just dumped Senhorita Arabella like a sack of potatoes, hadn’t he? He’d have to send some flowers or something. Ivan promptly forgot about Escobarans as they ducked out down a private corridor away from the departing guests. With Fox shadowing him, he paced along, still tense with frustration. He should _never_ have let Raine go to Beta. He wasn’t there when she needed him!

Ekaterin stood up as he entered the sitting room in the Emperor’s private suite. Very few people ever came here. Apart from appearing concerned she also appeared uncomfortable, as if she didn’t belong. “Ivan! Do you know what’s happening? You look dreadful! It can’t be the Vorkosigans, or your mother, can it? Is it Raine?”

Poor Ekaterin. She had no idea what she was letting herself in for getting mixed up with Manic Miles. Ivan kissed her hand, then held on to it. “I don’t know what I can tell you. It’s not the Viceroy or Vicereine, and my mother is safe in Bonsanklar.”

Ekaterin relaxed slightly. “What’s happened to Raine, then?”

“Let’s put the news on. _Something’s_ happened but I’m not so sure as I was that Raine’s involved. I hope not.”

The Empire Network News channel always had the drop on hard news. Ivan flicked through the feed to ENN. The presenter droned on about the Escobaran trade delegation, but the news ticker across the bottom of the display had started to pick up on reports of an incident in Sergyaran space just outside the Escobar jump point. By the time Gregor and Laisa arrived the _incident_ had firmed into a _hijacking_. They both leapt to their feet.

Gregor didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I’m so sorry, Ivan, I wouldn’t have broken the news so badly if I’d realised Raine was on her way home. Gerard told me how worried you are. What we know is, the ship has been hijacked but abandoned again. There are lots of casualties, mostly deaths. Passengers were deliberately executed. What crew casualties there were happened during the boarding. They tried to fight them off, but they’re just not equipped for that type of thing. There’s never been an attack like that before on a major passenger route.”

Ekaterin clutched at Ivan’s arm as he jolted at the news of dead passengers. “She’s safe, Ivan. You have to believe that.”

Ivan ran his fingers through his hair. “Miles was hunting down the passenger list. There’s some doubt that she’d managed to catch that connection.”

Gregor tried to steady him. “Let’s pray not. I’ll see what the latest news is.”

Laisa nodded to Gerard. “Can you organise tea, please?” She turned to Ivan. “Or would you prefer something stronger?”

There was an idea. A bottle of maple mead should just about do it. He shook his head. “No, thank you, Laisa. Tea would be great, if it’s no trouble.”

“Ekaterin needs something. She’s not used to this kind of thing yet, are you?” Ekaterin was still standing uncertainly to one side, unsure of what to do. Laisa drew her back down to the sofa in front of the vidscreen. “Come on, sit down. In here we’re Laisa, Ivan, Ekaterin and Gregor. Try and relax. Lady Alys assures me Vor women are used to waiting. I, however, have yet to acquire the habit. I need company.”

Gregor called from his study. “Come and look at this, Ivan.”

It was a copy of the ship’s manifest. There was no mention of any Vorfolses, Vorpatrils, Vordaggers, Barrayaran ladies or any other pseudonyms instantly recognisable as Raine, especially not travelling in company with an older couple. The itch between his shoulder blades began to ease.

“There are no military personnel on the list, either. They’re always flagged by ImpSec. I think she’s safe, Ivan.”

He couldn’t breathe evenly for a few moments. “It looks like it.” He scoured all the way down to third class, just to make sure, then went back to the top and started reading again. “You said multiple deaths among the passengers. Who would they have been looking for?”

Gregor became very still as he slowly scanned the lists. “About a third are Barrayaran or Imperial subjects. Lady Vorpetrie and her daughters, Lord and Lady Vorlakial, a Count’s heir, no less, oh, _shit_. Count Vortrifrani. That’s a distinct possibility.”

“Didn’t Lucas Haroche—”

“Yes, that’s the one. The _Yarrow_ incident.” Gregor cut him off. “Nothing was ever proved against the Count himself. He should have been flagged straight away. ImpSec will be looking into that connection.”

“What’s Vortrifrani doing on a liner in the first place? Doesn’t he want to blow up all the wormholes?”

“That’s what We’ll be asking Count Vortrifrani, always supposing he’s able to talk to us.”

Laisa called them back for tea. Ekaterin puzzled over the news. “So if Raine isn’t on Beta, and she can’t be or she’d have contacted you, and she didn’t board the _Princess Olivia_ , where would she be?”

Ivan smacked himself in the head and jumped back to his feet. “The _Empress Laisa._ I’m such an idiot. We need the manifest for the _Laisa_ , Gregor.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, either.” Gregor sounded quite rueful. He paged Guy Allegre again, and asked for the file. “There’s usually a simple solution to most things.”

“So _why_ haven’t I heard from them?” Ivan wasn’t prepared to accept simple, just yet. “She’s been sending messages nearly every day. The last I heard from her, she said to hold tight and wait for some good news, and then, _nothing_.”

“Ah. There was an unusually bad photon storm near Escobar last week. Lots of messages got scrambled. We didn’t spread the word too widely as the Escobarans were particularly vulnerable at the time. It had only just cleared in time for the _Olivia_ to jump.”

“Raine’s messages were lost in the mail? Is that what you’re telling me, Sire?” There was no keeping the incredulity out of his voice. _Surely not._

“It does happen. Or they may just be backed up. All the military communication would take priority.”

Another ping sounded from the study. “That’ll be the manifest.”

Ivan could barely hold himself back. The Emperor never entering a room first _wasn’t_ the protocol in his own private rooms. He’d already laid hands on Gregor’s Voice. He couldn’t do it to the man himself.

Gregor jabbed a button to reverse the alphabetical order on the manifest. Vorfolse, Vorfolse… There it was: _Vorfolse, Valeraine._ He had to put a hand out to steady himself against Gregor’s desk.

“Did you know about this, Ivan?”

“I’m sorry, Gregor? Know about what?”

The Emperor used a stylus to tap another couple of names. “Waleska, Stefan. Waleska, Aceline.”

“ _What_? Is that why Wally didn’t get back to me, either? The sly dog. They were staying at Raine’s hotel on the Orb, though. I suppose it would have been the perfect occasion.”

“Laisa, Ekaterin! Good news. Come and see.” Gregor called the others in.

Laisa leaned over Gregor’s shoulder. “Oh, she’s safe! That’s so wonderful. And _Admiral Waleska,_ married? Goodness me. We’ll have to have a reception when they get back. He was your physician for years, Gregor, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, nearly ten years. Hell of a way to avoid inviting the Emperor to your big day. Don’t you do that, Ivan. We shall not be amused.”

Ekaterin squeezed Ivan’s arm and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “ _Safe_ , Ivan.”

“For now.” Gregor called up Ops HQ, frightening the life out of the duty lieutenant. The man looked pale with shock as he answered the priority one call. “Get me Admiral Desplains. I want a flash order to Commodore Jole and the Sergyar fleet. The _Empress Laisa_ is to be afforded all possible protection to the Komarr jump station. Copy that to Komarr for the leg to Barrayar.”

The poor lieutenant gabbled almost incoherently as he snapped into action. Within minutes Admiral Desplains appeared briefly to confirm the orders. He looked awake, alert, and in uniform. Ops HQ would be working long into the night on this one.

“That’ll be something for the lieutenant to tell his grandchildren.” Gregor let his amusement show for a moment. “Commodore Jole is probably on the scene already with all the bells and whistles, but they may not have considered there might be another attempt on the _Empress Laisa_. Let’s hope our friends don’t manage to jump back through the Escobar wormhole before Jole catches up with them. Too bad for them if they do, though. I’m sure the Imperial Navy would be a tad more merciful that the Dendarii Mercenaries, if they have to chase them.”

They’d all begun to relax and Ivan was on the verge of taking Ekaterin home when the comconsole chimed again. Gregor went to answer. He spoke briefly, then called out. “It’s for you, Ivan!”

He let Ivan take the seat behind the desk, and beckoned over the ladies with a finger to his lips.

“You _idiot_. You card-carrying, fully paid up member of _Idiots_ Anonymous! Some village out there is looking for you. Have you got _any idea_ how close you came to getting yourself killed tonight?”

“Hello Miles,” Ivan gave his cousin a cheery grin. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. I had no idea Raine wasn’t on the _Princess Olivia_.”

Miles’s look could have killed him stone dead, never mind the ImpSec squad. “Nether did the murderers, by the looks of things. It wasn’t a hijacking, Ivan, it was a hit squad. Have you seen the casualty lists?”

Ivan looked around to Gregor, who shook his head. Miles didn’t bother to wait for an answer.

“Thirty dead. Over another thirty wounded. Twenty of the dead are women, Ivan, young women. Commodore Jole’s reports are coming through now. They went through the ship and shot anyone who looked even remotely like Raine. The other casualties are armsmen and family members trying to protect them. Both of Lady Vorpetrie’s daughters are dead. She was badly injured trying to get between them and the needlers. They demanded Raine by _name_.”

Gregor _shoved_ Ivan out of the way and leaned in to the vid screen. “Who did, Miles? Who did this to innocent people under Our protection?”

“Jole is working on it, until we can get an ImpSec squad out there. I’m on my way to the shuttleport. Is Ekaterin still there?”

Ivan and Gregor made way for her, and together with Laisa they left them to a bit of privacy. Gregor paced the distance from the couch to the sealed, windows, and back again, his face set like stone. “There’s a leak, or a spy.”

Ivan had been feeling awful for the past few minutes, even worse than when he’d thought Raine might have been on the _Olivia_. “I think it’s my fault.”

“What? How could it be your fault?”

“I’m the only one sending unencrypted messages to Raine. The last one I sent her was to tell her to book the _Princess Olivia_ because I missed her. I sent it Priority.”

“What exactly did you say. Can you remember?”

“Just exactly that, Gregor. _Book passage on_ Princess Olivia _. Can’t wait to see you_.”

“I suppose it could be interpreted as an order. It would have to be a pretty incompetent hit squad that didn’t check the manifest, though. Miles will get to the bottom of it. You’ve scanned your comconsole for bugs, I presume. It used to belong to Vorclarence, after all.”

“I had an ImpSec major _living_ there for weeks. He scanned my _toenails_ for bugs.”

“Leaks at any one of the relay points, then. Leaks at the jump stations. Leaks at the Embassy. Leaks at Raine’s end, the theme hotel or the hospital? They’re the most likely, I would think.” Gregor paced some more as he thought it through.

“So _who_ did it comes back to two choices. There’s Vorresiak and whoever is backing him, or some random, extremely powerful Mister X who doesn’t like her books. That’s highly unlikely. Not enough people know who she is. It’ll all go into the analysis, though, I’m sure.” He sighed. “You take Ekaterin home. We all need some sleep. I hope Miles manages to get some rest, because he’s going to be working his tail off, just when he should be spending time with Ekaterin. At least you know Raine is safe and on her way home. She’ll be in Imperial space very shortly and _nothing_ is going to get to her then. My word as Vorbarra.”

There was an ImpSec escort squad waiting with Harper at Ivan’s ground car. Fox checked it out anyway, before he handed Ekaterin in. A light flyer circled as well as they made their way through cleared streets to the University district. Both Harper and Fox flanked Ivan and Ekaterin as he saw her inside her front door to where the Professor waited for her with a big hug. Professora Vorthys was in the kitchen, making hot drinks. Ivan popped in to say goodnight to her, but didn’t stay. A squad of guards closed round the house after he left.

He wanted to be home to check on Marie. Devaux, on night duty, was at full alert with Driscoll doubling up with him. They dropped the shields to let him in, waited together with Fox until Harper parked the ground car and returned to the main house and then locked down tight for the night. No-one was going to be doing much sleeping, although Ivan stood down Harper and Fox. Kosa waited to help him out of his House uniform and he shrugged into some old ship knits. He secured his stunner in his pocket before slipping quietly into Marie’s room. Oblivious to any of the drama, she lay fast asleep, Steggy tucked as always under her arm. Ivan gently smoothed the hair away from her eyes and stood for another minute, just watching her breathe.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He settled down in the big chair to wait and watch.

 

Soft curls tickled his nose. Light filtered in through the window shades. Marie had crawled into his lap, so quietly she hadn’t disturbed him. Everything was peaceful for a moment, until he remembered.

“Good morning, darling.” He gave her a quick hug. “I have to go read my messages. I’m going to be very busy today so this might be the only chance I get to see you.”

Marie squeezed him back. “Ma McIver and me are going shopping for my school things today. Driscoll is coming with us, remember?”

“Oh, yes.” Ivan had to concentrate on what she was saying. The world hadn’t stopped overnight, after all. It might be best if Marie was out of the house. “I’ll tell Ma McIver to take Harper as well. It might need two men to carry everything.”

She giggled. “That’s silly. It’s just my uniforms and stuff. They’re not pink. Did you know?” She sounded quite dismayed.

“That’s bad, but you can wear pink underneath. It can be a secret. You hop along now. I’ll see you tonight.”

The instant she headed for the bathroom Ivan dived for his own room and his comconsole. What news? He scrolled through the priority ones first. Nothing much had happened overnight. No trace of the hijackers. A whole lot of nothing, in fact, but there, at the end of the list, were no less than four messages from Raine, all delayed. The first two were nothing much out of the ordinary. The third one was different.

_Ivan darling, Wally and my mother are getting married today! We’re all in a flat panic because it’s a sudden decision. We’re using the reception room at the hotel, so it will all be very Barrayaran. Vorberg is going to be Wally’s witness. The main problem is finding enough groats on Beta. We’ve raided the Embassy. I’ll write more later._

The last one explained a lot.

_Ivan, we couldn’t make the Princess Olivia. We’ve had an increase in the party and there weren’t enough berths. I’m bringing ten Betans and Earthers to inspect your holiday town. They’re all public relations people and travel agents. They’ll be staying at least two weeks, so start rolling out the red carpets now. Oh, one of them is a herm, Sela Thorne. It’s lovely. That won’t pose too much of a problem, will it? I can’t wait to get home, my darling. I’m going to kiss you all over. All my love, Raine._

 

 


	32. Dark Days

 

 

No one went running that morning. There was a makeshift gym in the ballroom and Ivan joined some of his men there. They had a twenty metre beep test set up, workout mats, a treadmill, chin up bars, weights and a punchball. He needed to get rid of some of his tension and work the jitters out of his system, and he wasn’t alone. They were all on edge and the punchball was going to suffer as a result.

The news vids were full of the _Princess Olivia_ crisis. From what he could tell, Raine’s name hadn’t been leaked. _Yet._ It was awful enough as it was, though. Thirty-one people dead, just as many injured. It was being reported as a hit-and-run pirate attack on a valuable cargo gone wrong, or so the story went. Ivan knew differently. People weren’t stupid; they’d soon work out that thirty passengers, and young women at that, wouldn’t be standing between a raiding party and a cargo.

Sarmiento stopped his chin ups to watch the headlines. The _Empress Laisa_ with her state of the art sick bay was boosting hot to render assistance.

“What the hell do _they_ think they can do? Passenger liner medics are usually employed to treat jump sickness and hangovers. They’d be next to useless treating needler injuries.”

Ivan snapped his fingers. “Wally! Wally’s on board the _Empress_.”

“Who’s Wally, sir?” Sarmiento looked a bit bewildered

“Sorry. Vice Admiral Stefan Waleska. Veteran of the Komarr revolt and the Emperor’s personal doctor for years. He was in charge of the field hospital in New Sheffield. With all his experience in emergency management, he’s going to be exactly what they need. He’s bound to be the senior medical officer, if they can get him there quickly enough.”

“That’s true.” Sarmiento agreed. “The jump pinnaces and guard ships responding to the SOS would only have corpsmen aboard, not full doctors. Commodore Jole’s battlecruisers would be slower than the _Empress_ , too, getting there from Sergyar orbit.”

Ivan could only imagine the frantic activity out there. It might mean that Raine’s return would be delayed, but that was a small price to pay under the circumstances. They might well transfer casualties and their families to the _Empress_ to get them to the facilities at the Sergyar transfer station. What were conditions going to be like with those poor traumatised people aboard, though? What if they found out that Raine was the reason they’d been attacked in the first place? What about his District? In the scheme of things it was a less than minor consideration, but Ivan’s promised delegation of travel and publicity agents might very well get off at Sergyar and bolt home again.

Gregor had promised to keep him in the loop. When Ivan left the gym an ImpSec squad had just arrived to install a top-level security comconsole for him. Fox was overseeing them. Seeing him reminded Ivan that he needed to talk to his armsman commander. He took him off outside the study for a few minutes.

“Fox, About last night…”

Fox looked wary. “Yes, Count?”

“I’m so sorry. I put you in incredible danger and you didn’t hesitate to try and protect me. You have no idea how humbling that is.”

“That’s what our oaths are all about, sir…If I may speak freely?”

“Yes, of course.”

Fox looked down for a few moments. “I think the man you need to apologise to is Armsman Pym. He would have stunned you, or broken your neck without hesitation if he had to. What would that have done to him, after all the help he’s given you? If he’d _had_ to hurt you, what would that have done to Lord Vorkosigan?”

Ivan felt sick. “You’re quite right. I acted like an idiot. I was…I was out of my mind with worry. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

Fox had said what he wanted to say. He brought matters back to their immediate concerns. “Is the Emperor going to increase your Imperial security, sir?”

“I think he already has. There was a squad outside last night. In any case, I’m doubling Marie’s security. I want Harper _and_ Driscoll with her today, and two armsmen any time she goes out, with or without me. We take no chances.”

“Very well sir. I’ll pass the word. We could do with a few more armsmen.”

“Nicolaides and Belka have stunners. Co-opt them into house security if you need to. Armsmen can wear plasma arcs on external escort duty, obviously not at The Residence or Vorhartung. They’d have to check them in at the door.”

Fox was right, though. He needed more armsmen. He wanted someone young enough to be Marie’s personal bodyguard, and he wanted one to shadow Christos and look after his mother. He could do with the full twenty, after all. He’d hadn’t thought it at all necessary when he’d taken on this job, but someone had tried to kill him already, and some bastards had tried to kill Raine. Miles would soon settle their hash.

Waiting for reports was tedious. Ivan tried to bury himself in his work. There was certainly enough of it. He drew up a flow chart for the visiting Betan party, always supposing they got here. He contacted Vorinnis down in Rotherhall to get things moving there, made courtesy calls to the Betan and Earth embassies to let them know he’d be hosting parties of their citizens, and alerted Gregor’s trade development office, too. He could just about accommodate the ten of them at Voralys House, always supposing security concerns weren’t too constrictive, but it wasn’t ideal. He’d just throw a party for them, instead. There were serviced apartments in his mother’s building. He’d nab some of them. Nicolaides looked into the nitty-gritty side of things, hiring a touring people mover and guide to Vorbarr Sultana.

Looking over his chart, Ivan tried to think what he might have missed.

He punched up the Betan embassy again. The receptionist listened to his request, and patched him through to a protocol officer.

“Rylan Finley speaking. How may I help you, Count?”

Ivan looked at the individual talking to him. It seemed relaxed enough, coping with Barrayar. “Yes, good morning. I have a party visiting from Beta, and one of them is a herm. It’s very important to me that it not be offered any, um, untoward insult. I’m hoping with your experience on-planet I can get some advice from you on coping with bigoted Barrayarans.”

The herm smiled broadly. “You have no idea how refreshing it is to hear you asking such a sensible question, Count. There are still several no-go areas we advise visiting herms to avoid, and we usually consider it best for individual travellers to buddy up with a trusted local. I’ll send you the information for tourists we issue to all our citizens, with the supplement for herms. Barrayarans not wearing earrings is greatly confusing for Betans and can lend itself to misunderstandings. For most business meetings gender doesn’t seem to be a problem. It’s usually in social situations things crop up.”

“Thanks. That would be great. Are there enough herms on Barrayar for you to have a social scene? Is there a particular bar or restaurant you would advise visiting?”

“There are only eight of us I’m aware of, sir, all here in the capital on the embassy staff. We usually hang out at Strelka’s when we’re off duty.”

“That’s on the Great Square, isn’t it? I think I might have been there a few times myself. Thank you, Rylan. You’ve been a great help.”

That was all he could do, really, except maybe find a buddy for the herm, who could keep it out of trouble.  _Oh._ The light bulb clicked on. He knew the _perfect_ person…

 

Nicolaides had been running through all the regular correspondence. Colonel Otto had reported on excellent progress with the groundwork for the next demolition, his men were being treated like heroes wherever they went, and with luck, all five buildings would be down before the Emperor’s Birthday.

“Anything from the paint factory?”

“Up and running. The first pigments are going through the sand mill right now. As luck would have it there’s a titanium oxide deposit near Prestwich, and the miners who used to work it before Vorclarence closed it down still live close by. That’s commissioning at the moment and will need about a month. Unfortunately we’re importing oxide from Vorpatril District right now, but I didn’t think that would be too much of a problem for you. Your new industrial chemist has sourced spraying equipment and should be ready for the first test batch quite soon. He asked what colour you would like. I told him pink. I don't think he believes me.”

“I hope you told him _why_ pink was the way to go?”

Nicolaides grinned. “Of course, sir. I told him it was your favourite colour.”

“Not in the mood, Nicolaides.”

“Sorry, sir.”

He wasn’t, not one bit. Ivan sighed and threw down his stylus. He should go mope somewhere else, away from misguided attempts to cheer him up. With one last fruitless check of the comconsole, he took himself off to the kitchen.

Ma Belka welcomed him to a kitchen counter with a plate of spice cookies and a cup of hot tea. “Dunking is allowed in the kitchen, Count, as long as Miss Marie doesn’t see you. Nothing like dunking a biscuit to take your mind off your troubles.”

“You know about it, then?”

She nodded. “Only what Fox told me, that you’re worried sick because your intended just missed the _Princess Olivia_ and is on board the _Empress Laisa_. It’s a terror that won’t let you go, when the person you love is in trouble.”

Ivan moped some more into his cup. “She hasn’t said yes, yet.”

Ma Belka banged a pan onto the stove. “Damn fool of a woman wouldn’t be worth having if she said no. You’d be well rid of her, sir. What’s not to like?”

It was the nicest thing anyone had said to him in ages. He was still smiling when his soggy cookie fell into his cup of tea.

 

Marie, worn out from her shopping trip, had just gone to bed when Gregor finally contacted him in the early evening. He looked exhausted. The blaze of anger behind his eyes was a terrible thing to see. He could hardly speak from the emotions that choked him. “Ivan, can you come? I’ve sent a flyer. I need to talk to you.”

Whatever it was, it had to be truly awful. Ivan was out of his seat before the Emperor had finished talking. “As fast as I can make it, Sire. You just hold on. I’ll be there.”

He leapt down the main staircase three steps at a time, calling for Fox as he went. Armsmen came boiling out the duty room at the alarm in his voice. “Fox, you come with me. Driscoll, Harper, with Marie. Kosa, Sarmiento, you’re on lockdown. Make sure all the staff and kids are safe. Devaux’s going to need some help on night duty. Try and get some rest, each of you, turn and turn about.”

Nicolaides had joined them from his quarters. “I’ll take the main doors. Helen will sit with Ma McIver and help with Marie. Keep us informed, sir.”

“If I can.” Ivan was through the door on Fox’s heels the second he saw the lightflyer come in to land. “I’ll let you know if it’s safe to stand down here. Take no chances, though.”

The flyer took off in a screaming vertical rise the second he’d snapped his belt on. The squad of ImpSec troopers escorting him sat stony-faced and silent. At the emergency vehicle altitude the buildings looked very close below, but he’d hardly had time to think about it before the flyer settled on the rooftop landing zone at The Residence. Gerard waited for him, his face giving nothing away. With the minimum of formalities he was led through the corridors to Gregor’s office. Fox settled down in the antechamber to wait for him as Ivan was passed through without delay.

Gregor was still staring at his comconsole. Ivan braced to attention in front of him. “Old habits die hard, Ivan.” He looked up at last. “You don’t have to do that any more, you know. Drink?”

There was a bottle of maple mead open on the table by the window. “Shit, Gregor, don’t drink that stuff. Just tell me. Is Raine dead?”

“What? Oh, no, Ivan, not Raine, I’m sorry. There haven’t been any _further_ casualties. I got a list. Why don’t you take a look?”

He didn’t sound right at all. Ivan took the proffered flimsy and started to scan down. He’d read five or six names before the details started to register. _Female, thirty two standard. Massive trauma to lower abdomen. Female, eighteen standard. Massive trauma to lower abdomen. Female, fourteen standard. Massive trauma to lower abdomen. Female, thirty six standard. Massive trauma to lower abdomen._

All the females on the list had died the same way. He walked over to the table in a daze and poured two shots of maple mead, bringing one back for Gregor. Without waiting for permission he slumped into a chair.

“Fucking hell.”

Gregor sucked in a deep breath, and then another one. “There were at least three of them in the death squad, another five on the bridge, and maybe more protecting the escape route. Lady Vorpetrie's maid was able to give a partial description of the main culprit. It tallies with other reports. Male, a hundred and eighty five centimetres. Early thirties, she estimated. Slim build. Dark hair.” He had to stop, but forced himself to go on. Ivan could only look at him in horror. He knew exactly what was coming as Gregor’s gaze met his. “Hazel eyes.”

“Do you think it’s a coincidence? Miles won’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Gregor wasn’t following. He looked blankly at Ivan.

“His grandmother. _Princess and Countess Olivia_. How she died.”

The Emperor leapt to his feet and paced over to the window to stare out at the first stars appearing in the sky. “There’s more. The leak was at the embassy on Beta. Raine, Wally and Aceline booked three first class cabins and five standard for Vorberg’s squad, and lodged their travel plans with the ambassador. It was normal procedure, nothing unexpected. They cancelled at the last minute and rebooked on the _Empress_. Unfortunately they forgot to notify the embassy this time, until nearly a week later, when they were heading for the shuttleport. Lady Vorpetrie was on her way back home from Earth. She exchanged her berths with Raine, and was delighted to be able to make it home a week earlier than planned. They were in a hurry to make it in time for the Count’s birthd—Excuse me, please.”

He bolted into his private bathroom.

It was more than ten minutes before he came back out again. Ivan thought about going after him. _No._ He needed his privacy. He poured a large glass of water instead and had it ready. He was in imminent need of the bathroom himself but he forced the vomit back down his throat and picked up the flimsy again. Three Vorpetrie armsmen, _dead_. Sick bay medical attendant, _dead_. Second officer, _dead._ Pilot, _dead._ Pilot, _dead._ Five Betan nationals, mostly women _, dead._ Three Escobaran nationals, all young women again, _dead._ It went on and on.

The evil bastards had killed both pilots. That ship couldn’t jump.

Gregor looked almost normal when he came back out. His hair was maybe a trifle damp, as if he’d sluiced his face. He took the glass of water and swallowed a mouthful. “Miles won’t get there for nearly another week. The _Princess Olivia_ is going nowhere so the plan is to transfer the wounded and as many passengers as possible to the _Empress Laisa_ and burn for Sergyar orbit.”

Ivan strove to think of something positive to say. “Wally will be able to help.”

“Yes, a very major blessing in an unholy catastrophe. The _Olivia’s_ doctor is still alive, but he’s overwhelmed, of course.”

That didn’t make sense. “So why kill the sickbay attendant and leave the doctor?”

“Second officer, first aid and two crew. It sounds like a party to bring survivors on board. That must be how they got on in the first place. Jole’s men are sending through the logs. I presume Guy’s analysing them now. We’ll hear shortly.”

Gregor’s breathing started to quicken again. “Ivan, my _brother_ did all this.”

“Your _bastard_ brother, and my _bastard_ cousin, who’s spent the last ten years on that _bastard_ of a place Jackson’s Whole, sure as I’m sitting here, doing heavens knows what. And he most certainly wasn’t working alone. Miles will sort out that end. What can we do here?”

Gregor picked up a stylus. “We have an interview with Count Vorpetrie first thing in the morning. We…have to make arrangements. There are nineteen Barrayaran and Komarran nationals dead. No Sergyarans. We have to bring them home. They won’t be landing in service coffins. Not those little girls. We want them to be individuals. We’ll have a civilian contractor transfer them to something less…stark at the orbital station. My secretary’s arranging everything. We’ll go out to the shuttleport and escort them home. We don’t know what else We can do.”

“I’ll come with you, of course.”

“Thank you. The first shuttles will be for the Olivia’s survivors. The regular passengers from the Empress will be asked to wait.”

“Oh, Raine. I’d forgotten. Can you believe that?”

Gregor huffed a quick breath. “Priorities get rearranged.”

Ivan glanced at his chrono. “I presume it’s safe to let my armsmen stand down? They’re on high alert back at Voralys House.”

“Go home and tell them yourself. There’s nothing more you can do here. There wasn’t anything you could do, anyway, really, except be here for me. I just needed… I thank you for that, Ivan. It meant a lot.”

Ivan shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. You won’t be sleeping tonight. You’ll still need me.”

 

 


	33. Homecomings

 

 

Ivan stuck his head out of the office door. “Fox, you can go home. Grab an autocab. You can all stand down to normal duties. Give everyone my thanks and I’ll call for the ground car when I need it.”

Fox had jumped to his feet when Ivan appeared, but he didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to go anywhere. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll just wait here. You might need me. I’ll let the others know.”

“Oh, very well. Ask Gerard if he can scrounge us up some coffee. I thought he’d be out here.”

“The Empress called him, sir. He’ll be right back.”

Gerard _was_ right back, escorting the Empress who was not going to be sitting waiting on her own, _thank you very much_ , while her husband was kept out of his bed ’til all hours. She had a hand reader with her.

“I’ll just sit over here in the corner and not disturb anyone, but I’m here if you need me, love. We’re a team now, remember.”

Gregor opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. He obviously didn’t need any more battles tonight. While they waited for their coffee he sat, thinking. “Ivan, what you said about Miles’s grandmother…We hadn’t thought of that aspect. We just thought it was a series of sadistic executions with sexual connotations, because, well, you know, Serg—”

He obviously didn’t want to go there, and shied away from what he was about to say. “But you think it’s more of a message than even that?”

“I think the sick, twisted bastard is going to do everything he can to wreak the worst possible torture on everyone he sees as his enemy. There’s Raine, because she escaped him and can identify him. It’s a matter of principle to him that Raine dies. I nearly said _honour_ , but that shite has none. If Raine had been in her proper cabin he might have stopped there, who knows? It looks to me like he took out his mad rage at missing her on any female who came close to her description. Then there’s Miles, because of what went down at Jackson’s Whole, and he also helped thwart Vorclarence, and then you, because, well, you’re the Emperor and he’s not. I’m probably in his line of fire as well, being the one that took Vorclarence out. There’s still Vorbataille and the third party who supplied the bio-warfare. He has to be financing all of this, out of the Whole. We’ll probably find out Vorbataille’s yacht was the bait. A phoney distress call, maybe even bodpods launched. Yes, that would do it. Anybody would stop for bodpods, and you don’t know what’s in them until you open them inside your own vessel.”

Gregor sighed. “You make way too much sense.”

Ivan knew he was right. “It’s totally vile. What a mess to land on Uncle Aral’s and Aunt Cordelia’s doorstep.”

“We’re getting reports through from him now. Pretty much repeats of stuff we’ve already got though. They’re sending all available supplies up to the transfer station. Kareenburg’s only blood synthesiser, surgical kits, anything they can think of. Wally will be radioing ahead, I’m sure, with what he needs. They might even call for blood donations.”

Guy Allegre came in with a series of reports and analyses. Word had filtered through of mass ship departures from Jackson’s Whole, a totally unexpected volume of traffic obviously designed to mask the pirate raid. “Thirteen or fourteen red herrings, Sire, and one or more pirates. I think it’s highly significant that one of them was Vorbataille’s yacht, although the transponder still has her sitting at Fell Station. Visual evidence proves otherwise.”

“If they’ve got dodgy transponders they can pretend to be anyone. We must shut down _all_ wormhole traffic to catch them.”

“Consider it done, Sire, but they’ve had nearly three days to escape, in a very fast match-race yacht. They could be in Escobar orbit by now, well out of reach of the Imperium, or hiding in plain site as a legitimate ship. We’ll have to check every one. There are hundreds of ore freighters, miners, legitimate travellers, foreign vessels, survey vessels and Imperial navy ships.”

Gregor’s cold fury leaked out. “One thing’s quite clear, General. These people are _never_ going to be out of Our reach! Alert Admiral Quinn and the Dendarii, please. We may well have need of their services shortly. We’ve got the Betan and the Escobaran ambassadors breathing down Our neck already. Imagine when We start harassing their trade as well.”

Ivan couldn’t see the problem. “They’ll understand. They’ll want to catch the bastards as much as we do.”

“I hope so. The Escobarans are watching their wormhole, if it’s not shutting the stable door. At last report they’re going through all the traffic in the past fifty hours to check authenticity.”

By about 0500 hours the dawn was beginning to lighten the sky. Laisa insisted that Gregor went back to his private quarters for a shower and change of uniform.“Count Vorpetrie and his poor son are due in from his District at 0800, wanting answers about his daughter in law, granddaughters and armsmen. There’s not going to be a lot you can tell him, but you can do him the respect of a fresh shirt and suit. Ivan, why don’t you come up, too? You can have a nap in a guest room somewhere. You’ve been such a champion. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

Ivan would be intruding if he stayed any longer. He could almost see Gregor donning his suit of armour. He’d got past the worst of it now. The Emperor was ready for the day’s bustle and demands and all the venomous snakes about to descend on him. Ivan felt his stubbly chin.

“No, thanks, Laisa. I’ll go on home now. I need a shower myself, and to spend some time with Marie. There’s going to be a lot of waiting. Try and make Gregor have a rest. He’ll need it. Just call me if I can help with anything else.”

Fox was dozing, propped up in a corner with his feet stretched out in front of him. He became instantly alert when the three of them came out, springing to attention and bowing as the Emperor passed. Harper was waiting at the front door, and by the time they arrived back at Voralys House they had to wake Ivan up to get him out of the ground car. No morning run for them again, that morning.

The newsvids were recycling old news on constant repeats. The only thing they could say differently to the day before was that the Lord Auditor Vorkosigan was on his way to take charge. Casualty lists hadn’t been released, apart from private messages to known next-of-kin, and details were still too sketchy. There were hideous door stop interviews with family members who had loved ones on the _Princess Olivia,_ vidcameras pushed into the faces of people who didn’t know if their wives, husbands and children were alive or dead. Ivan turned off the feed in disgust. They were no better than carrion crows, those people. His dislike of reporters deepened, if that was possible.

Marie was still asleep when he came back out of his room ready for the day ahead. He slid into the big chair and sat watching her breathe. The youngest girl on the casualty list, Lady Vorpetrie’s daughter Bronwyn, was just fourteen when Vorresiak blew her abdomen out with a needler. _Fourteen._ Miles had better catch the fucker before _he_ saw him. He’d been going to do that to his Raine. Rage welled up inside him out of nowhere, blinding, vicious and deadly. On his word as Vorpatril, Voralys and the great grandson of Xav Vorbarra he’d have that madman’s liver out and shove it down his throat and ask questions afterwards. This was a blood feud now.

“Are you cold, My Ivan?”

When did Marie wake up? She was lying in her bed looking at him.

“Cold, honey? No, I’m not cold.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Oh, am I? Perhaps I had a bad dream.” He was living a nightmare, more like. What must Gregor’s nightmare be like?

“I don’t have bad dreams when Steggy is here, or when you are. You make them go away.”

May it always be that simple for her. “I hope I’ll always do that, princess. Even when you’re all grown up.”

 

Ivan’s Voralys House blacks fitted him well. His boots were meticulously polished and his cuffs just so. He had an extra handkerchief or two in his pocket and his hair had been trimmed. The _Empress Laisa_ was home. She’d reached the transfer station the night before. Raine was nearly here. He’d tried to talk to her every day for the past week, ever since they’d made Komarr space. Communication was limited with the vast amount of official messages passing back and forth, and with survivors wanting to talk to family. Raine wasn’t talking very much, though, anyway. She looked _stricken_ with guilt _,_ struggling to say anything, really. He’d managed to find out that either she or her mother had been sitting with Lady Vorpetrie every hour round the clock after Wally had operated on her depressed skull fracture and damaged arteries. She’d refused to be transferred to hospital on Komarr, insistent on bringing her daughters and her armsmen home herself. Her determination knew no check. Lord Vorpetrie had flown to Komarr to be with her, but she still clung to Aceline’s hand, or Raine’s. Her sisters would be waiting at the shuttleport. Perhaps she could rest, then.

_Who was he kidding_? Lady Vorpetrie would never rest another day in her life. He only hoped to whatever gods were out there that Aceline and Raine could come to terms with it all.

Wally finally had his own chance to rest when he’d handed over patient care to the fleet surgeon at Komarr. There’d been another death before he’d arrived, but that crew member was in cryostasis. With Wally prepping him he should stand a great chance, too. Ivan had seen Wally briefly, with Aceline, standing behind Raine as she talked to him but he looked ten years older than he’d remembered. He and Aceline should have been so happy. He’d have to send them down to Rotherhall for at least a month. Maybe more.

Vorberg had grown up, too. Raines’s escort had been doubled to a full platoon, round the clock surveillance at her cabin door or outside the sickbay. There were never less than two men with her wherever she went.

“Ready, Count?” Fox, tall and imposing in his House blacks, waited by the door. It was time. Driscoll and Harper stayed back with Marie, and Devaux as usual was off duty, sleeping for his night shift. Foxaccompanied Ivan in the back seat. Sarmiento drove and Kosa piled in beside him. Ivan hoped Raine would come back with him. There were rooms ready for the three of them, and he’d co-opted By to look after the visitors over at the apartments. Everything was ready there, as well. He’d been quite surprised when they’d continued with the trip. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning, but perhaps they could turn things around.

They arrived at the military shuttleport with five minutes to spare. Sarmiento had driven off to the allocated parking area just as the first of the float-bike outriders came into sight, followed not long after by the ImpSec cars and then the long shining shape of the Imperial State vehicle. Ivan stood to attention, an armsman alert on either shoulder as Gregor alighted and turned round to help his wife out. Laisa looked sombre in her black bolero and traditional Barrayaran skirt. It wasn’t a style she wore very often but she’d shown the utmost respect today. After a quick handshake Ivan fell in behind them as they all assembled in the waiting area. In only a few moments the vapour trail appeared in the sky as the Imperial shuttle brought its precious load home. They’d dispensed with the airbridge today as the cargo was perhaps more precious than the passengers.

Count Vortrifrani was the first person to disembark, flanked by his distinctive armsmen. Even at a time like this he had no thought of ceding precedence. Armsman Gerard and the new aide-de-camp headed him off.

“The Emperor has made an appointment tomorrow for you, Count, where he can give you his full attention. 1100 hours, at The Residence. Your vehicle is waiting for you this way.”

Vortrifrani was practically frogmarched through the terminal. From the looks of his armsmen they didn’t mind a bit. There were three of their colleagues waiting to come home. Vortrifrani might not be so enthusiastic to receive Gregor’s full attention once he’d got it, either. Guy Allegre would be with him.

Lord and Lady Vorlakial had more common decency. They not only waited for Lord Vorpetrie to escort his wife’s float chair, they fell in behind the sad cortege of five coffins with their drapes of black trimmed with a double border of sage green and purple. Even in death the armsmen escorted their ladies. Gregor broke protocol and crossed the landing pad to take Lady Vorpetrie’s hand, while Count Vorpetrie flanked his son on the other side. Her sisters came out to meet them at the gate.

Ivan looked back to the shuttle hatch. Raine stood in the shade of the doorway, waiting for him.

 


	34. Infiltrated

 

 

Ivan waited for the cortege to clear the area. As the entry doors closed behind the last escort he strode out to the shuttle, trying not to run. His heart was too full to say anything as he closed the distance, but he never took his eyes off Raine’s face. Near enough to touch at last, Raine reached out a trembling hand to take his. She laid her head into his shoulder and sighed. Some of the stiffness left her, but to him she seemed as fragile as a snowflake, and as cold. It was still late summer and the day was warm. She shouldn’t have been cold. With one arm around her waist he ran his other hand over her hair, barely touching, waiting for her to say something. She leaned into him and started to tremble.

“Count Voralys! Mademoiselle Vorfolse!” A Vorbarra armsman doubled across the landing pad to speak to them. He came to respectful attention a metre away, where Fox was also waiting. If it had been anyone else Ivan would have told him to take a hike, but he obviously had a message. Tightening his arm around Raine’s waist he turned to face the armsman.

“The Emperor’s respects, Count. Lady Vorpetrie is requesting she say good bye to Mademoiselle Vorfolse before they leave for Vorpetrie House.”

Raine straightened away. He didn’t want to let her go. “Oh, yes, of course. Poor Caroline. We have to go, Ivan.”

He held out his arm for her. “Of course we do. I’ll take you.”

She looped her arm through his and they hurried away together behind the armsman. “Are you on your own?” he asked. “I can’t see Wally or your mother.”

“The first shuttles are for survivors, and the…the casualties. I came to be with Caroline. She didn’t want me to leave her. I thought she’d be better now, with her sisters, but I might have to go with her, Ivan.”

That wasn’t a good idea. Lady Vorpetrie had her family now. “The armsman said she wanted to say goodbye. You need to look after yourself, too, darling, but let’s see what she wants, first.”

Caroline Vorpetrie was all eyes. She had shrunk into herself. A large dressing covered the side of her throat and the other side of her face was black and purple under a bandage, with the bruises only just beginning to fade. She held out her hand to Raine as those huge eyes filled with tears.

“I wanted to say goodbye. We’re going back to the District for the interment. We’ll rest here tonight and leave in the morning. Our family doctor is back at the house, Callum tells me. Thank you, Raine, and please thank your mother. You’ve meant so much to me these past days. And Wally…well, what can I say about Wally? At first I was devastated to realise I’d survived, but I couldn’t let him down after all that work, could I?”

“Wally would do it all over again. You know that. So many people love you, Caroline. You’re their sunshine in the dark.”

“We need to get you home, love.” Callum Vorpetrie came over to them. He nodded to Ivan, but crushed Raine in a hug. His eyes were full of tears. “Our House is forever in your debt. You have only to ask.” He turned away, swallowing a sob and brushing a hand across his face, his expression changing from devastation to a smile as he looked down at his wife. “Let’s go.”

Raine waved them off. She watched until the ground car turned out to the highway. “That bastard slit her throat, Ivan, then kicked her in the head when she still tried to pull his aim away from the girls. Her maid saved her life, but it took Wally hours to repair the damage. She was first on his list. The medics had been fighting for four days to keep her alive.” She hauled in an unsteady breath.

Gregor appeared at Ivan’s side. “Take Raine home, Ivan. We’ll make sure Wally and Aceline are looked after. We want them under your protection at Voralys House where the security can be guaranteed.”

The choice was out of her hands, then. Raine looked at Gregor, blankly. “I can’t go to my own home?”

“Soon, We promise. Let Ivan worry about you. He’s been frantic for weeks.”

“I have guests. They’ll be disembarking at the commercial shuttleport.”

“All taken care of.”

She showed a flash of defiance. “Well, I’m going to wait right here until all the girls are home. I’ll think about it then.”

Gregor nodded. “As you wish. You should sit with Laisa between shuttles. The next one is due in a few minutes.”

Laisa took Raine’s arm. “That’s a good idea. Ivan and I will keep you company.”

Ivan hadn’t really paid too much attention to the minutiae of the arrangements. It took three more shuttles to finish bringing the nineteen coffins home. The funeral directors Gregor had contracted did an excellent job, with a never-ending stream of hearses ready to load and go at five minute intervals. Gregor had insisted that they all be treated as individuals, rather than one anonymous convoy. Most of the bodies were going to rest at the funeral home overnight before being taken on to their families, some of whom had decided not to travel to the capital. Many of their relatives were still in various sick bays, too, waiting their turn for the shuttles to be transferred to ImpMil.

Gregor looked grey with exhaustion as the last of the walking wounded left for the hospital. He’d spoken to every one of them. They waited together in the reception area as his escort convoys formed up and the ground cars were brought round. Raine hadn’t said another word of her own volition, merely answered politely as Laisa and Ivan struggled to make conversation.

Laisa finally rose to leave and they stood when she did. She gave Raine one last hug. “As bad as this is, it must be worse for Miles. He’s coping with the Komarran end of things all on his own.”

“Yes, they’re sticky to deal with at the best of times, and Lord Auditor Vorkosigan’s name—”

Ivan broke off. “Wait a minute. Miles escorted the Komarran casualties home. There were three of them.”

“That’s right. One pilot and two—”

“Gregor!” It wasn’t polite to interrupt the Empress, but this couldn’t wait. “Gregor!”

The Emperor turned at the urgency in Ivan’s voice.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nineteen coffins, Gregor. We’ve received nineteen coffins.”

“Yes, that’s right. There were nineteen of our casualties.” It only took him a moment to realise. “Oh, shit—” His fingers slammed onto the screamer he wore on his wrist. “Guy! The funeral home. Get a squad there. _Now_.” He listened for a moment. “Why? We have three too many bodies, that’s why.”

 

Hiding in plain site was one thing, but this had to be the most breathtakingly audacious, Machiavellian plot Ivan had ever seen. They all reeled with shock as they were hustled into the security office of the shuttleport and locked down while shit hit the fan in all directions. Discounting the five Vorpetrie dead, and the three Komarrans, there should have been eleven more coffins to transport to the funeral home. The squad despatched to investigate had reported eleven coffins in the hall of rest. They’d even had the gruesome task of opening them. Ivan wasn’t going mad. There had been three shuttles carrying five casualties each, and the last one had unloaded another four. Three hearses and three coffins had _vanished_.

Raine didn’t need any of this. Gregor had insisted a medtech take a look at her. He’d given her a half shot of synergine and she’d managed to relax enough to sit comfortably while they waited. Laisa took the other chair. Gregor was perched against one end of the desk, Ivan on the other, Gerard and Fox standing either side of the door, with four very ugly ImpSec troopers on the other side. The comconsole ran red hot.

The first thing Gregor had to do was refuse General Allegre’s resignation again. Ivan could _not_ believe how easily they’d been fooled. It was so sneaky, though. No-one would have been counting until sixteen coffins turned up, anyway. It took over an hour to find the abandoned hearses, with the abandoned coffins inside them. The drivers were long gone. They must have been the first three to depart after the Vorpetries and that gave them at least three hours head start. They could be anywhere in Vorbarr Sultana by now, or worse, half way to one of the Districts. Vorguriyev’s was watched far too closely, as was Vorbataille’s. There were only another fifty odd to choose from. Whichever way they looked at it, ImpSec was in for a long night.

Guy Allegre finally let them go when every inch of the shuttleport and the route home had been cleared. An unmarked lightflyer came for Gregor and Laisa. Ivan, Raine and Fox were taken home in an ImpSec emergency flyer. The neighbours must be getting used to seeing _them_ by now. The other armsmen were detailed off to bring the ground car back.

Wally and Aceline were waiting for them. They’d come home via the civilian shuttleport with the rest of the Empress Laisa’s regular passengers. Ivan hugged Aceline while Raine hugged Wally, then they swapped. Wally’s handshake wasn’t enough. Ivan embraced him in a bearhug as well. Harper hovered close by, waiting until Ivan had a free moment.

“Byerly Vorrutyer checked in, sir. All the guests are present and their luggage accounted for and as soon as they’re settled in he’s taking them out for dinner at Strelka’s. He’ll pick them up for an orientation tour tomorrow and they’ll end up here for lunch at 1300 hours. I took the liberty of warning Ma Belka.”

Raine had been listening. “It’s very good of By to help you out like this, Ivan. Whatever did you do to persuade him?”

Ivan smiled for the first time that day. “Oh, By has about twenty thousand reasons why he’d like to help me out. What do you all say to drinks and I’ll tell you the story?”

Raine shook her head. “I’d rather have a hot bath and go to bed.”

Ivan’s sentiments exactly, but that wasn’t what she meant at all and now was not the time.

“You haven’t eaten anything for hours. You have your bath and I’ll have something ready for you to eat in your room, then we’ll tuck you in. I think Wally might have a sleeptimer for you. What do you reckon, sir?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Wally went to look for his kit while Ivan showed Raine upstairs to the suite next to his, on the other side of his rooms to Marie.

“Your ImpSec guards and my armsmen will be on patrol all night. May I wait here for you while you have your bath? I haven’t seen you for so long I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

He slipped his arms round her waist and let his forehead rest against hers. “I’m so sorry it’s all turned out like this.”

Her lips turned up to his, soft and hungry for comfort. Ivan could have stayed like that for ever. The loneliness that had dogged him for so many weeks eased and drifted away like ice in a spring thaw. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say his other half had come back to him.

“Knock, knock.”

Ivan groaned. “Go away, Wally.”

It was too late. The moment was broken. Raine drew back and slid her palm across his cheek.

“I’ll have that bath now. Excuse me.” The bathroom door closed behind her.

“Oops. Sorry, Ivan.” Wally held a bottle in his hands. _Sleeptimers_. Right. Ivan ran his fingers through his hair.

“This is such a mess.”

The admiral’s expression showed bleak acknowledgement. “I haven’t seen carnage like it since the Komarr revolt, and that was a picnic compared to this. I’ve had enough, Ivan. I’m out. I wasn’t completely sure about retirement before, but now I am. I want to sit behind a desk and vaccinate kids for the next twenty years.”

“Perfect. I’ve got just the job for you! I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage yet, although now doesn’t seem like a good time to break out the champagne, does it?”

Wally’s smile transformed his face. “It’s the best thing I ever did in my life.”

“You probably saved my life, and you certainly saved Etienne Vorinnis and countless more. You can be very proud of what you’ve done, Wally.”

The admiral shrugged. “Yeah…I suppose. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but yes. It beats slaughtering healthy young men and women, that’s for sure. Still, It’s good to be home. Nice place you have here. I hear you’ve been redecorating. Harper was telling me about it.”

They were all trying to think about something else, weren’t they? Ivan went along with him. “Wait until you meet my cook. Think Ma Kosti junior.”

“That makes house arrest seem much more interesting, but all I want to do right now is sleep for a week.”

“You can do whatever you want, but I suggest you wait until after dinner. Speaking of which, I’d better get something organised for Raine.”

Wally headed back to his own room and Ivan had a few words on his wristcom to Harper, who went down to the kitchen with his orders. It wasn’t long before the armsman returned with the serving trolley.

“Chicken soup, sir. Ma Belka put that on a stay warm server. It should be good for a while. Vat salmon and salad, fresh bread and fruit. Ma Belka says don’t hesitate to ask if something else will take m’lady’s fancy.”

“It’s just mademoiselle, Harper. Mademoiselle Vorfolse. Premature expectations can lead to disappointment.”

“I see sir.” Harper didn’t blink. “Admiral and Madame Waleska are happy to eat in their suite tonight, and Miss Marie is _taking tea_ with Ma Belka’s youngest, Stefa. She’s well taken care of. There’s nothing else to disturb you tonight.”

“Um, right.” Were they expecting him to stay in here all night? That was most definitely optimistic, but kind of nice, too.

“Thank you, Harper. I’ll let Devaux know if I need anything more. You can stand down.”

“Very good, sir. Good night.”

There was no movement from the bathroom. Ivan waited another ten minutes, then tapped quietly on the door. “Raine? Everything OK?” There was no reply. He tapped again, louder this time. Still nothing. He tried the door. It opened. She was fast asleep, head lolling against the side of the bath, her hair loosely tied up in a knot on the top of her head. She’d never looked so beautiful

He should call her mother, or call Wally. Hell, Raine could trust him. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He shrugged out of his black tunic and rolled up his shirt sleeves, reaching over to release the drain. As soon as the water dropped he found a towel to cover her and another for her shoulders.

“Come on, honey, time to get you out of here.” He placed one of her arms around his neck and his hand behind her back. “Up you come.”

She half roused, enough to help him anyway. It was easy enough to pick her up once she was clear of the bath. Her breath was warm against his neck, her skin flushed and damp. This was not how he’d imagined her first night back with him every time he’d gone to bed for the past month.

She murmured, snuggling into his jaw just below his right ear. “Love you, Ivan.”

He groaned. “Oh, honey, I love you, too.” He was sweating by the time he reached her bed, and it wasn’t from the weight. With some more manoeuvering he managed to get the covers back and laid her down. Once the covers were tucked over her he eased the damp towels out.

There was a chair by the dressing table, and another over by the window. Hell of a way to spend the night, but it would have to do. He slipped back to his own room for a few minutes to freshen up and find some ship knits, grabbed a couple of pillows and a blanket off his bed and headed back. On second thoughts he returned for his stunner.

Raine was dead to the world, her face smoothed of worry by sleep. Ivan threw the pillows onto the armchair. He might be uncomfortable all night, but he didn’t have to be uncomfortable _and_ hungry. Shame to waste one of Ma Belka’s dinners, after all.

 

Ivan had one hell of a crick in his neck. He stretched and tried to massage it away. There was a tap at the door. Was that what had woken him? He looked around and saw Raine still fast asleep. She’d hardly moved. He dragged himself over to the door and opened it. Wally stood there, looking decidedly better with a good’s night sleep under his belt. Ivan only wished he could say the same.

“There’s a delightful young lady called Marie out here looking for you. Shall I tell her not to wait for breakfast?”

“Um, no, I’ll come. Can you sit with Raine? I don’t want her waking up on her own in a strange place.” He opened the door further. Wally took in the pillows by the chair and the blanket cast to one side.

“Sure thing. Your mother raised a gentleman, Ivan.”

“She raised a pretty grumpy one this morning. Whoever designed those chairs wants shot, and I’m happy to do it.”

“I don’t suppose she was expecting anyone to sleep in them when there’s a perfectly good bed in the room, but I take your point. You might want to come back with the news when you’re done. I don’t have access to the comconsoles yet.”

That woke Ivan up in a hurry. “Shit! How could I forget? Nicolaides would have woken me with urgent messages, though. I’ll see Marie has her breakfast and be right back.”

Raine slept until 1100 hours. She’d been utterly, utterly exhausted, Wally told him, running on adrenalin and stims for a week. Aceline wasn’t much better, but she took her place sitting with her daughter while Ivan and Wally went through the reports. There wasn’t much Ivan could actually tell him about the previous day’s events, but the news vids had started to fill with casualty names and the lack of progress in catching the pirates.

“They must be somewhere close by,” Wally concluded. “If Jole hasn’t caught them at the Escobar jump, do you think they had the audacity to head for Komarr and Pol?”

“They’ve got the audacity for anything, this lot,” Ivan remarked bitterly. “If they’ll kill unarmed women and children in cold blood what won’t they stop at?”

He’d have to wait until he was on his own to check the top security messages. Besides, it looked like Raine was waking up. Her eyelids were flickering and she’d rolled over.

Aceline had unpacked the bags while Raine had snoozed on. Ivan was glad to see there was a robe at the foot of the bed.

“She’ll want that,” he said to Aceline. “Tell her not to sit up too quickly. She might get a shock. We’ll just wait outside until she’s decent.”

A few minutes later a less-than-elegant Raine came to the door. “Why have I got no clothes on?” she demanded, “and why don’t I remember?” She looked ready to clock him. This was more like her old self.

“You fell asleep in the bath. You’d have been pickled by now if I’d left you there. Anyway, you have less than two hours before your visitors get here for lunch, so I’ll send up some coffee and meet you in the library.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Good morning to you, too.”

The sleep had done her the world of good. She smiled when she came into the library to find him. “Sorry about before. I remember thinking how lovely a hot bath was, and that was it.”

“What, you don’t remember promising to marry me? I should have had a witness.”

“Yes, you should. Two actually, or it never happened. Have you heard from Byerly or any of the guests this morning?”

“Too many hangovers, I should imagine, if they went out with By. They’ll be here in half an hour. Want to see the house? You’ve only seen the dining room, before.”

They strolled around the downstairs rooms and wandered into the kitchen so that Ivan could introduce Ma Belka. She was elbow deep in lunch preparations but smiled in genuine delight to meet Raine.

“Oh my, I can see why the count was so eager to have you home, ma’am. You’ve done him a power of good already. He was that worried about you.”

“Was he? He’s like that. Very caring.”

“Yes, ma’am. The way he’s looked after everybody here is just special. I’m proud to work for him.”

Ivan squirmed. They’d have him blushing in a minute. “Have you done discussing my good points, ladies? Because I think our guests might be here. Fox has just pinged me.”

Ma Belka returned to her bowls. “I’d best get on. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes, sir. All I need is to do is add the garnishes.”

Fox, Harper and Driscoll had lined up in the hallway to welcome in the visitors. It was quite easy to spot the Betans in the group; they were croggling at the carved wood of the staircase and the height of the ceilings. The Earthers were slightly less overwhelmed. There were four of them and they were far more interested in the armsmen and the trappings of gentility.

“Just like a stately home,” one of them remarked. “Who’d have thought the place was so civilised?”

Ivan heard Raine’s quickly suppressed giggle. He also saw the look on Fox’s face. What he was about to say was totally forgotten as Byerly Vorrutyer walked in with the last of the visitors. Ivan was too polite to let his jaw drop, but he hadn’t been prepared for Sela Thorne. What was immediately revealing, though, was the look on By’s face. He hadn’t been prepared for Sela Thorne, either. He looked positively smitten.

 

 


	35. Dealing with Betans

 

 

Armsman Fox put on his best parade voice.

“Count Voralys. Your visitors have arrived.” He looked very pointedly at Byerly Vorrutyer.

“Oh, er, yes. Quite so. Count, may I introduce, from Earth, Seth Austen, Marianna Williams, Michel Drust, and Wang Bai.”

The impromptu receiving line had Ivan biting his lip as they all either bowed or curtsied, _curtsied, for heaven’s sake,_ before shaking his hand. Raine was much less formal, kissing everyone on the cheek.

By continued. “And from Beta Colony, may I introduce Kaman Kuan, Gwen Clancy, Peter McMurray, Theoni Fazzolari, Cordelia Edwards, and this is Sela Thorne.” His voice dropped almost reverently as he introduced the herm.

Ivan switched to his standard English, perfected on his stint at the Barrayaran embassy on Earth. “Welcome, everyone. Welcome to Barrayar and to Voralys House. I trust By has been looking after you?”

“Oh, he’s been _looking_ ,” Sela said. Kaman snickered, hurriedly smothering his laugh with a hand. The herm was truly beautiful, or was that handsome, with the sculpted face of one of those statues the Greekies always went wild over, waving, burnished hair and the bluest of blue eyes. Adonis had a rival.

“Yes, um, well, shall we go through to the dining room? If anyone would care to freshen up first, my armsmen will escort you to the facilities.” He stopped short. He’d been about to say ladies to the left and gentlemen to the right. He hadn’t thought this one through, had he? He looked rather blankly to Fox for help.

“Honourable herm, if you would care to follow me, the gentlemen may go with Armsman Harper, and ladies, Armsman Driscoll will escort you.”

Ivan mentally projected a high five to the perceptive armsman. Where the hell was he going to take him, though? The public areas only had ladies and gents cloakrooms. Did herms normally use one or the other? He should have read those briefing notes the Betan embassy had sent him. Fox headed off for the armsmen’s ready room. There was another cubicle in there. Quick thinking.

He looked at By looking at the herm. “Put your tongue back in, By,” he said. “It’s not like you to be _obvious_.”

Byerly sounded rapt. “Have you ever seen anything like it? It’s positively enchanting. I’m doomed, Ivan, doomed.”

Raine smiled at him. “Did you read its earring? It translates roughly as _herm, presently available, always willing to be entertained ._ Sela won’t be a pushover, By. You’re going to have to charm it if you want to get anywhere. Flowers, chocolates, maybe tickets to the wrestling championships. I bet it would just die to go skiing. Use your imagination.”

By tore his gaze away from the doorway where the herm had disappeared with Fox. “Oh, I am, Raine. Believe me. I am.”

Ivan could only shake his head. Trust By.

Lunch was a success. The Betans took one look at the carvings on the dining room wall and flipped. By won who knew how much kudos by allowing Sela to actually touch the wood. It stood in reverential silence while the rest of them ate.

“This is food for the soul,” it said.

One of Sela’s friends tucked into another helping of Ma Belka’s vat pork and apple raised pie. “There’s a time and a place, Sela. You can eat _and_ look, you know.”

Ivan did his best to have a few words to each of his guests and find out what they were looking for. Wide skies and running water were huge draws for the Betans. The wood, obviously, and probably seasons, too. They never had a spring, or an autumn, on Beta. He was quite glad the Betans had read up on their protocol, either that or Raine had warned them, because none of them wore a sarong. That might have caused a spot of consternation among the armsmen.

One of the ladies wandered over to the buffet table. He gave her his best smile. By wasn’t the only one looking, he noticed. She’d been eyeing him off for the past hour. She was very attractive, too. No harm in a touch of flirting, after all. “So, ma’am, you share the same name as our Vicereine. Is it popular on Beta?”

Cordelia Edwards _simpered_. There was no other way of describing it. She laid a hard on his arm and leaned in. “Why, Count, you remembered my name! With such a crowd it’s easy to get confused.”

_Not to any son of his mother, it isn’t._ Mamère would have had his hide if he’d forgotten someone’s name. There was all that embassy training, too.

She squeezed his arm. “Cordelia is a very popular name, of course. I’m actually named after Captain Naismith. She was such a heroine, and then there was the romance of it all, to run away for love. Have you ever met her?”

Ivan took half a step back but came up short against the table. Out of the corner of his eye he could see By snickering at him. This was another aspect of the Betans he hadn’t quite thought through, either. She was all over him like a rash. The old Ivan wouldn’t have hesitated. The old Ivan would have thought all his Winterfairs had come at once.

“Countess Vorkosigan is my aunt, ma’am. I’ve often met her. She’s a…um…formidable lady.”

Unthinkingly, he pulled at his earlobe. Cordelia Edwards made him quite uncomfortable. Apart from the very minor consideration of his complete commitment to Raine, making out with anybody called Cordelia would be just _wrong_.

Fox and Harper appeared at either side of her. “Ma’am?” Fox sounded very stern. “If you please? Step away.”

What? _Oh, shit._ The pull at his ear was his duress signal. “No, no, Fox. It’s quite alright. Ms Evans and I were just talking.”

Her eyes widened. A burly armsman breathing down her neck looked to excite her as much as the Count did. “Ooh, have I overstepped? Are you going to arrest me?” She sounded almost hopeful. “I do apologise. An earring would be so much easier.”

“Not at all, ma’am.” Ivan tried to make light of it. By, bless him, wandered over to pour oil on the troubled waters. He drew her off to look at the carvings. On the way, he whispered something into her ear.

Cordelia turned back to look at him in utter astonishment. She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “Oh, really? How _fascinating_! Yes, I can see he must be.”

Now what sort of shit had By got him into? Ivan would find out, later. He moved on to talk to the Earthers. Seth Austen gave him a big smile.

“I’m told your district capital is called New Sheffield, Count. I imagine it’s somewhat different to the original Sheffield. I was brought up not far from there, in a district called Sherwood.”

“Oh, that’s famous, isn’t it? My mother used to tell me ancient legends about Sherwood forest. You’ll like our oaks, then. As you know, the district symbol is the oak tree. _Quercus robur_.”

“I’d love to see them. There aren’t any oaks in Sherwood any more.”

“Really? We’re still planting oaks. The wood takes a hundred years to mature so for every one we cut down we plant two more, or so my terraformers tell me. Planning for the future.”

A strange look came over Seth’s face. “Would we be able to see that? It’s not restricted, is it?”

“Not only is it not restricted, you might just get roped in to do some planting yourself. It’s all hands on deck down there.”

All four of them perked up. “We could plant trees? _Seriously?_ That would be brilliant.”

Who’d have thought? “You can plant trees, pick apples, or help with the harvest at the right time of year. There’s always something. You’ll probably just catch the almond harvest, too. My district produces a lot of nuts.”

By appeared like magic at his shoulder. “Don’t we know it? I’m going to have to drag your visitors away, Count. We’re due at Vorhartung Castle at 1500 hours to see the museum”.

Was By going to show them bits of Mad Yuri and a few Cetagandan scalps? That wouldn’t be too appropriate. Who knew what By would come up with, though. “I’ll say goodbye, then. Please enjoy your visit to my District, ladies, gentlemen and honourable herm.”

By ushered them all out like a mother hen with chicks. Funny how he managed to brush up against the herm on the way. Sela Thorne didn’t seem to mind a bit.

“By?” Ivan called him back. “What did you say to that Betan?”

By’s eyes glinted. He looked seriously evil. “I just mentioned Lord Vordagger.”

“You… _didn’t_ …did you?”

By flipped his hand in farewell. “Oh, by the way, I know you asked me to shepherd them around town, but I thought I’d escort them all down to Rotherhall, too, if you have no objections? I need the break.”

As if his objecting would stop him. “Liaise with Etienne Vorinnis. Make sure they all get to plant some trees and pick apples, By. They might even like to milk a cow or two.”

By shuddered. “I draw the lines at cows. They…fart.”

Raine waved them all off with a big smile on her face. As soon as the people mover pulled away she appeared to collapse in on herself. Ivan could almost see her shrink.

“That was too hard. I can’t do this, Ivan. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry! They’ll be leaving for the District tomorrow. You did magnificently. Come on, I’ll take you back upstairs. You probably need a nap.”

“It’s ridiculous to be this… _weak_!”

“What? You think you’re going to bounce back from all that trauma and exhaustion in a couple of days? You’re only just over your operation, never mind what came after. You need rest, and peace and quiet, and lounging around in the sunshine with girly drinks with umbrellas in them. There’s nothing more you have to do.”

She stopped in her tracks, and waved her hands around at all the magnificence. “No, Ivan. I really mean it. I’m just a country girl. I don’t think I can do this. I honestly don’t think I can marry you.”

Blind panic seized him. “You really need to rest. It’s not wise to make any sort of decision just now. When you’re well, and calm, we can talk things through. I can’t lose you, Raine. I just can’t. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen. You can live in New Sheffield, or Rotherhall even. You’d love it there. You don’t have to do any District stuff if you don’t want to. I promise.” Oh, _shit_. He was gabbling, but no, no _no_. He _couldn’t_ lose Raine.

He coaxed her upstairs, into her room, and pulled back the feather quilt on the bed. “Here, sit here. Let me take your shoes off.” Once she was in the bed he pulled the quilt up to her chin and smoothed her hair.

“That’s better. You go to sleep. No more pressure. No more _having_ to do anything. I’m not going to ask you anything until, oh, until the Emperor’s birthday, say. That’s three weeks away. Everything will seem better by then, I promise.” He didn’t know what else to do. He found her hand and kissed it. “I love you, Raine. I’ll always love you. You make me so happy, just to know you’re here. Try not to worry.”

There were tears at the corners of her eyes. “You make it all sound so easy.”

“It can be. I promise. You rest.” He kissed her softly, trailing his hand slowly across her cheek. These yo-yo emotions were just to be expected. What hadn’t he been like after Earth, and he hadn’t felt responsible for over thirty deaths and another thirty injuries? Survivor’s guilt must be crushing, even when none of it was her fault. Ivan closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. He’d put in a voting deputy if he had to, live in the District and give Raine anything she wanted. He was _not_ going to lose her now, word as Vorpatril. Or even Voralys.

 

By the time he finally got to check his comconsole there were a few messages piled up. He glanced through them. There was one from _Gregor_. He hadn’t thought about that can of worms for hours. He hurried to flick it open and settled back to read. Had they found them? Had they found out what had happened? Miles mustn’t have had any sleep at all, to have produced all of these results. He hadn’t got past the first paragraph before his head started to ache. He had to go back and start again.

There was nothing unexpected all the way to Komarr. Miles had taken charge of his three casualties and taken them home to their families. No problems there, apart from well, dead people, of course. Sixteen coffins had been on the _Empress_ through to the Barrayar transfer station and offloaded to the care of Imola Funeral Homes, Komarr and Barrayar. Gregor had ordered individual, non-military coffins for all the deceased. That all made sense so far. Imola had taken twenty-five various styles up to the hangar set aside as a chapel. Fair enough, some of the families may have wanted to choose and Gregor had probably said that money was no object.

_Then_ it all started to get complicated. Ivan gave up and put a call through to the Emperor. Would he have time to talk him through it? He had to wait for his call to be returned, but at last Gregor’s drawn face appeared on the screen.

“Hello Ivan.”

“Hello, Sire. Things look complicated.”

“It’s all Our fault, Ivan. We didn’t think things through.”

That didn’t make sense. “How can it be your fault?”

“We ordered Guy to use the Komarran firm. There was a choice of three and We wanted to try and smooth things over with Komarr. We thought it might have mollified them a bit.”

“Well, that’s perfectly logical. I take it there’s a problem with Imola Funeral Homes?”

“Big time. They’ve been specialising in repatriations, which is why We thought they would be so good. They send home foreign citizens who die here, some as funerals and some as cryofreezes. It turns out some of the said cryofreezes weren’t exactly voluntary, and some of the repatriations _to_ Barrayar weren’t deceased citizens at all, or they were, er, not alone on their journey. That’s how so many of the drugs have been getting in.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. There’s going to be a shortage of fast-penta well into the future at this rate. What we can work out is there were at least five vessels involved. They all left Cordonah and Fell stations from Jackson’s Whole at the same time. One peeled off and did the job. You were right. They sent out a feeble, local SOS beacon and had bod pods out to entice the _Olivia_ to stop. The perpetrators swapped ship at least twice as they hi-tailed it for Komarr. We were looking at the jump to Pol but they lurked at Komarr until the _Empress_ got there. They must have had local help. Miles is pursuing that angle. Two of the ships acted suspiciously heading out for Pol, but of course they were red herrings. There’s nothing to pin on them.”

“So how did the murderers get to Barrayar, then?”

“Would you believe they bought tickets? _Very_ good false identities, supposedly employees of Imola’s, sent to help out the branch office with all the rush of work.”

Ivan held his head in his hands. “Bloody hell.”

“It’s all been planned for so long. No one was watching the traffic _into_ Barrayar, apart from the normal surveillance.”

Ivan could see it all. Too easy. “So how did nobody spot the extra coffins coming down from the shuttles until it was too late?”

“Our fault. We told Guy there was to be no red tape and the funeral people had to be allowed to get on with what they did best. The shuttle pilots didn’t question anything. Why should they? We sent Our own shuttle up there, out of respect, and that upset the apple cart. The three regular shuttles should have dealt with it, but they had four. They just loaded up and shipped out. None of them were counting.”

“You’ve got to hand it to them for balls. I take it the funeral employees are the sacrificial goats?”

“Most of them were just doing their jobs. Imola has disappeared, and We have no real proof who the other three were. We can guess, of course.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Sit tight and let ImpSec get on with things. Miles is wrapping up the Komarr angle. He may or may not go out to the Whole, but We’d rather have him here, to be honest.”

Well, that was just shit. It was obvious Gregor thought so, too.

“But what do they _want,_ coming back here? I would have run like hell and kept on going.”

Gregor sighed. “We can only think they want more revenge, Ivan.”

“That would be right. This is Barrayar, after all. I’ll keep my armsmen on their toes. Got any spares?”

“From Voralys District? I can see what I can do. No promises, though.”

Hell, was he serious? That would be fantastic if he was. “In the meantime, can you order Raine to marry me? I think I need an Imperial edict. Things are _not_ going well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to talk to her?”

“I would if I thought it would do any good. It’s the whole Count business. She’s terrified.”

“Maybe we should get Laisa to talk to her, then. She had to take on the whole Imperium, never mind a District.”

She had, too, and was making a good job of it so far.

“How did you get her to take you, in the end? What was your secret?”

Gregor actually winked at him. _Winked! The Emperor.“_ Gentlemen don’t tell, Ivan. You know that. She just fell for my charms.”

All unbidden, the memory of the Koudelka sisters came back to him in a sudden rush, when they’d come to supper at Vorkosigan House. Delia had spilled the beans on what Laisa had told her about Gregor. Ivan could feel his face going red. He turned away to cough.

“Anyway, being serious, Ivan. Raine’s present danger has nothing to do with you. She met Vorresiak long before. The safest place she could possibly be is with you. Apart from ImpSec there’s no-one else to protect her. You can just imagine what would happen if she went to her Count?”

“Vorfolse? That’s a joke. _He’s_ a joke.”

“So for now, she stays with you, and it’s up to you to change her mind. Are you bringing her to my birthday party?”

The Emperor’s birthday ball, where all the Counts presented their tributes? There was a madman on the loose out there and Gregor was talking about a ball? That was a non sequitur if ever he’d heard one. Ivan didn’t have Gregor’s knack of only worrying over things he could actually do something about. He was worried about _now_.

“Yes, of course. If she’ll come.”

“Good. Wally and Aceline are invited as well. The invitations are going out tomorrow. I’ll keep you informed, Ivan.”

Well. Ivan stared at his blank comconsole. Wasn’t that just peachy? Time for a bottle of maple mead.

 

 


	36. Wedding, parties, everything.

 

 

The good people of Rotherhall brought forward the harvest festival by a week so that their galactic visitors could enjoy it. Ivan knew he really ought to go down and see for himself that everything was running smoothly. Besides, everyone needed a break away from the capital as the strain of waiting for the other shoe to drop became too much. It was the last chance for Marie to travel with them, too, as school started after the weekend. There was quite an entourage with Ivan, Raine, Wally and Aceline, Simon and Alys, Nicolaides, six armsmen, Vorberg and his full protection squad, Ma McIver, the Belkas and several of the household staff. When Gregor heard about it he insisted on lending them a service shuttle for the weekend.

“You _will_ take the shuttle, Ivan. I request and require it.”

Obviously his disastrous foray into hiring civilian contractors was a livid scar on his conscience. Ivan could see his point.

“With Vorresiak still on the loose we don’t want to take chances with safety. Thank you, Gregor. I’m sorry you can’t come too.”

“I'd like to, Ivan, and I'm really sick ImpSec has vetoed coming down to the District to see that last tower fall. I would have loved it but you know what ImpSec is like. I am, however, having a whole day to myself next weekend. Count and Countess Vorbarra are going to a wedding.”

“Yes, Sire. That’s another reason to get m’mother out of town, too. Drou and Delia practically begged me to distract her.”

It was only a week until Delia’s wedding. Drou and Delia _really_ needed a bit of peace from all the good advice. It had been blissful when Lady Alys had to confine herself to long-distance calls from Bonsanklar, but now she was home, fit and raring to go.

Gregor allowed himself a faint smile before he cut the com.

By reported in daily that the visit had been all they’d hoped. The town square was a huge hit, bartizans and all. Farmer Eccles’ Barrayaran blacks had awed them into stunned silence, and Seth Austen had laid on his back on the grass under an oak tree for an hour straight, watching the sun through the browning leaves until one fell and he caught it.

“The souvenir shop has done remarkably well,” By told Ivan. “Who’d have thought these postcard things of yours would be so popular? They’re so much more authentic than holocubes or vids, although they’ve got those as well, of course. Vorinnis has hired a firm from New Sheffield to make them and Sela has been having an absolute ball pointing out all the artistic shots. It’s got a real eye for the best angles. It was born to be a publicist, I tell you. Er…” He hesitated. “Sela’s looking to extend its stay after the others go back. I told it I’d ask you about it.”

“You’d like it to stay longer?”

“Ivan, I’d like Sela to stay for ever. At my place.”

Well, here was a turn of events. By Vorrutyer really was bowled over by a Betan herm. He even looked different. Some of those hard edges had vanished and the lines around his eyes had softened, too. By being serious, sober and focussed was hard to adjust to. He wasn’t just in lust; he was obviously in love.

“You don’t want to go rushing into these things, By. I’d hate to see it end in tears.”

“If Sela does end up going back to Beta I’m sure I’ll get over it. I’ve lived through worse, after all. You do need a Betan liaison officer on this end of things, though. It would be ideal. It could design all the package tours and—”

“We’ll talk about it over lunch, when we get there,” Ivan promised. By was going to drivel on for hours at this rate. The only thing he truly cared about at the moment was getting a real smile back on Raine’s face, not one of those false things she pinned on when she thought anybody was looking at her. She was walking and talking and eating right on schedule. He suspected sleeping was something else as he hadn’t seen her sleep much. Being a gentleman downright _sucked,_ sometimes. Giving her space sucked even worse, but he was following Wally’s suggestions to the letter.

Rotherhall had a really festive air. Pennons flew from all the buildings. There were trailing banners either side of the door into the town hall and festoons of bunting in the most improbable of places. The market was in full swing when they arrived from New Sheffield. So many more people wore the Voralys uniform now, and the little girls and boys running around all had crowns of oak leaves or woven wheat stalks on their heads. It was impossible not to smile, apart from Vorberg, that was. Ivan was really glad to have him back even though he looked harassed to the point of near dementia. Mikhail Karasavas had come out from New Sheffield with his men to take charge of security, but not even that helped Vorberg relax.

By mid-afternoon the trading stalls had been cleared away in favour of booths selling food but mostly drink, and the centre of the square cleared for entertainment. The Count’s party had seats on the steps of the town hall, but most of the other visitors wandered around to marvel. Marie was beside herself with the spectacle and the colour. Ivan nearly had his arm pulled off as she tried to attract his attention to one wonder after another. In the end he gave up and held her on his knee. Raine sat beside him, sipping at a glass of cider. She hadn’t eaten much.

They all looked to the side of the square when the sound of fifes, fiddles and bells signalled the harvest dancers. Raine had been lounging, but she sat bolt upright when they came into view. She clutched at Ivan’s arm.

“Look! I’m not seeing things, am I?” She gave a snort and then burst into a trill of delighted giggles, turning into a full-on belly laugh as the dancing started. Ivan had been talking to Simon on his other side for the moment, but broke off to stare, first at Raine and then at whatever it was that had caught her attention. It was rare to hear Simon laugh, but he, too joined in. Ivan’s jaw dropped as he saw why they were cracking up.

Perfectly straight-faced, dressed all in white with bright ribbons crossed on its chest and hanging from its elbows, with bells on its shins from knees to ankles and a black hat adorned with a rainbow of flowers, Sela Thorne had joined in the dancing. _Oh, dear lord,_ and there, opposite him, _Byerly Vorrutyer_ jigged and stamped his feet and waved his scarves to drive the evil spirits out of the harvest.

Raine wiped her streaming eyes. “Oh, no! Look at him! I told him he’d have to work at impressing the herm. I didn’t think he’d go _this_ far!” She had to stop talking to try and catch her breath, but all she could do was wail with laughter.

“The things we do for love.” If Ivan could have rolled on the floor he would have. By was _never_ going to live this down.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Marie scrambled down to join in with a group of young children imitating the action at the side of the square. Sarmiento wandered off to keep an eye on her.

“Somebody had better be recording this!” Ivan didn’t know what was better, seeing Raine laugh so hard or seeing By perform quite creditably. When had they had the time to practise this? And _where_ had they got those clothes?

The harvest dance was a male only affair but soon the tunes changed and men and women both got to their feet to join in the old country dances. It wasn’t a bit like the balls at The Residence or Vorhartung, but there were one or two Ivan was game to have a go at. There was a roar from the crowd as he led Raine into a set. Right beside him Simon and Alys joined them. On the other side Fox had co-opted Jenny Beck and Vorberg made up the eight with a young lady he’d grabbed from the crowd. Jenny filled them in on the dance.

“This is the _Strip the Willow,_ sir. It’s easy.”

It _was_ easy, but pretty energetic too, with lots of twirling up and down the row. Ivan and Raine were puffed out by the time they collapsed back into their seats. Simon was red in the face.

“That’ll teach you to think you need to protect me even when I’m dancing in my own District,” Ivan told him. “We’re with friends, here.”

Simon, Karasavas, Vorberg and Fox just looked at each other. They had no need to speak. Everyone was always friends until someone lost an eye.

 

The break in Rotherhall had done everyone so much good. It was certainly a turning point for Raine. Ivan felt so relieved to see the change in her. Wally relaxed too. They’d both of them been watching her closely, but by the afternoon of the wedding she looked just like her normal self. In fact, she looked utterly stunning in her Winterfair-red dress and red roses in her hair. They arrived quite early at Vorkosigan House to find Miles waiting for them.

“You cut things a bit fine,” Ivan said. Miles had scraped back into town in just enough time to fulfil his promise to be second. “I got here early just in case. You could have said.”

“Sorry, Ivan. I just got in this morning. I took a four hour sleep timer. I was just about ready to drop, otherwise.”

Ivan had been worried for three days he’d have to stand in as second but the friendship between Duv and Miles was a special one and it would have been a shame for him to have missed the ceremony. The Lord Auditor looked ready to burst with frustration, though. Vorresiak had managed to slip through their fingers _again_.

“He’s just like a bad smell,” Ivan said when they were gloomily contemplating their failure. “Always hanging around to spoil things, and you never know where it’s coming from. Impossible to get a hold of, too.”

“Oh, I’ll get him,” Miles promised grimly. “I just don’t know when, at the moment. It’s ridiculous that we can’t find him. He’s not been seen in Vorguriyev’s District, or Vorbataille’s, or even Vorfolse’s or Vorevreaux’s.”

“Vorevreaux’s? Oh, the drug dealing son. Yes, _he’s_ probably a very tiny minnow in a very big pond. You’re leaving no stone unturned.”

“Enough of this.” Miles shook his head. “I refuse to let him spoil Duv’s day.”

The wedding went off without a hitch. The bride looked glorious, the bridegroom like a stuffed mullet, or was that a rainbow trout in his parade dress, so rigid with nerves that he could hardly speak until Delia appeared. Ivan, in the second circle of witnesses, could only envy him his happiness. He stood next to Raine on one side and Ekaterin on his other. She was babysitting Dr Burgos while Martya stood as Delia’s second. Poor Ekaterin looked like she needed all the help she could get. Count Vorbarra stood on Raine’s other side. He’d personally requested it, apparently. Once Miles kicked aside the groats to let Commodore and Madame Galeni escape, he proffered Raine his arm.

“We’ll let his good friends offer their congratulations first, shall we? Laisa was just asking about you the other day. We haven’t seen you since the shuttleport.”

Nobody wanted to think about the shuttleport. Laisa grabbed Raine’s arm and headed for the champagne. “They’ll be ages, and Gregor wants to join in, too. No sense standing around like wallflowers, is there?”

Ivan noticed the two of them go off to the side of the room as he waited his chance to kiss Delia and hug Duv. Gregor hadn’t lost his sneakiness, had he?

The ballroom at Vorkosigan House had seen a few weddings, some much bigger, some smaller, but very few could have been as happy. The toasts and the food and the dancing were all splendid, and best of all Kou didn’t look the least bit concerned about how much it was all costing him. Gregor’s gift to the bride and groom was the fireworks. They all piled out into the back courtyard to watch, where the nip of autumn chill reminded them of the quickly changing season. It was the perfect opportunity to slip an arm round Raine’s shoulders to keep her warm. She snuggled into him, her hair tickling his nose and her scent tickling his senses. Ivan didn’t even notice when Duv and Delia slipped away. Fox was going to fly them down to Rotherhall and Harper fitted smoothly into the slot of armsman commander in his absence.

After Count and Countess Vorbarra left there was time for one more dance. Miles had chosen a waltz and led his Ekaterin out onto the floor. There was probably going to be a very welcome homecoming celebration _there_ tonight. Ivan smiled for his coz. It was good to see him happy. It was good to have Raine happy and relaxed in his arms, too. He didn’t want much more out of life, apart from her to say yes. He wasn’t going to ask her again, though. He’d promised. Not until the Emperor’s birthday.

“So what did Laisa have to say to you, earlier? I saw the two of you conniving in the corner.”

Raine glanced sideways at him. “Did you put her up to it?”

“Put her up to what? I haven’t asked Laisa to talk to you. Word as Voralys.”

She pulled back a little to look suspiciously at him. “It’s quite a coincidence then. She asked me if I was going to marry you.”

Ivan tried to look innocent. “Did she? I promised I wasn’t going to do that again. Not yet, anyway. …What did you tell her?”

She swatted him on the arm. “That’s cheating. She could see I was hesitant about it. _She_ said she’d rather have Gregor and put up with all the shit, than not.”

“The Empress said _shit_?”

“She said _this Barrayaran shit_ , actually. You do have to admit the Emperor has to put up with an _awful_ lot of it.”

“I’d never want his job. Um...Did she make sense?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. It was a very important answer. _Vital,_ really.

“Let’s say she gave me food for more thought. I might need to sample the merchandise again before I finally decide, though.”

His heart caught in his throat. He almost missed a step and pulled himself up just in time. “You know, when I got you out of that bath?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I was too much of a gentleman to check out how your surgery went, when I had the chance. You don’t suppose I could…?”

“Mmm.” She snuggled in a bit closer. “Maybe wait until we get home, though?”

Ivan couldn't get out of the place fast enough. “I can have Harper at the front door in five minutes. Where’s Miles? We should say goodnight.”

“No, I really don’t think we should.”

Ivan looked up and saw his cousin. “Oh, you’re right. He’s busy. We’ll just say thankyou to Pym instead.”

Drou and Kou were in the hall, saying goodnight to guests. Kou shook Ivan’s hand.

“Thanks for everything, Ivan. It all went well, and no debts to worry about.”

“Duv and Delia loved it all. Have you ever seen him so happy? It must feel strange to have a married daughter, though.”

Drou nodded in amazement. “She was my baby, just yesterday. What did you think of the fireworks?”

Raine smiled. “I think they were wonderful. I haven’t seen good fireworks in ages. The Emperor knows how put on a great show, doesn’t he?”

Ivan whispered into her ear as they turned to leave. “Gregor’s not the only one.”

Pym, standing by the open door, looked him straight in the eye. “Goodnight, Count, ma’am.”

Raine stifled a giggle. Ivan still needed to talk to Pym, but now wasn’t quite the time. He’d see him at the birthday, next week. That would have to do.

 

Voralys House was quiet when they returned. Devaux dropped the force shield to let them in, then returned to his patrol. Raine kicked her shoes off with a sigh and left them by the front door. Ivan undid the suddenly tight hooks at his collar and the first button on his tunic. The lights were low on the stairs, brightening to show the way as they passed the motion sensors. Ivan held Raine’s hand. She didn’t need his help, _he_ was the one who needed her touch. He’d needed it for such a long time.

“Your place or mine?” he asked at the top of the stairs.

“Maybe mine would be best?”

“Sure. Fine be me.” He stopped her outside her door. He didn’t want anything going wrong. He knew from experience that she packed a mean right knee. “You sure you still want this?”

Raine opened her door and hooked her other hand into the open neck of his tunic. “Enough with the silly questions and come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

It was all right after that. It was more than all right. It was wonderful. Lord Vordagger himself couldn’t have wished for better. Raine’s ridiculously complicated dress was no match for his prowess in dress-undoing, honed by long practice. He’d come out with honours if they ever offered a course. Wearing only her slip she took her time over his tunic buttons, giggling at his protest at how slow she was. At last she had the final one undone and he could discard the formal tunic.

“The shirt can come straight off. You don’t need to do those buttons.”

She tutted at him. “You’re too impatient. Where’s the fun in that?”

She pretended to fumble with his cufflinks, first one, then the other.

He growled. “Hurry up, woman.”

“Ooh… You’re grumpy.” She looked up from what she was doing and smiled slowly. “Or is that frustrated?” She planted a kiss on the wrist she’d just exposed.

“Witch!” Ivan swept her off her feet and strode over to the bed. “If you’re going to take this long I may as well be lying down at least. I might just drop off at this rate.” He stretched out and pillowed his head in his hands. “What was that you were doing?”

He closed his eyes as she slid the palm of her hand over his belly and up, flicking open the buttons one-handed as she went. She lay down to whisper in his ear.

“You’ve still got your boots on.”

“I need to call my armsman for that.”

That made her sit up and look at him. “What? You don’t—”

Ivan laughed. “Gotcha.” The boots disappeared in two seconds with two loud thumps as they landed somewhere. It didn’t take him too much longer to dispense with his trousers and shirt and everything else, either. He’d had enough of waiting. “Your turn to lie down.” He pulled back the covers for her to lie face first on the bed. “You promised to let me look.”

The silk of her slip slid easily up and away from her calves and thighs. With only a little delicious wiggle of her hips it was off and flung somewhere with all the other discarded clothing. Ivan caught his breath.

“Ohhh…” The ugly scars were gone, vanished. He ran his hand gently over her buttocks and kissed the base of her spine. “Beautiful.” He tried a spot another inch up. “Stunning. You take my breath away.”

Raine tried to turn her head to look at him. “Now who’s teasing?”

He smiled at her. “I’ve only just started. There are over thirty bones in the spine, you know.” He counted every one with a kiss.

She had started to tremble by the time he’d finished. “Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys, you get in this bed _right now_.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Ivan tumbled into the bed, scooped her up and rolled her over on top of him. There was just enough light in the room to see the look on her face. “I love you, Raine. You’ve come back home.”

She smoothed back the hair from his forehead. “I feel like this is home. You’re gorgeous. I suppose you knew that already. I can’t be the first to tell you.”

“It’s different when _you_ say it. I don’t want you to be the first one to tell me. I want you to be the last one to tell me that. No one else. Ever.”

The teasing light in her eyes died away. She kissed his eyes, his nose, his chin, and ended up at the soft skin on his neck over his jugular vein. She nibbled softly. “I love you too, Ivan.”

 

 

 


	37. Tying up loose ends

 

 

There was no getting away from it. Ivan had to go back to New Sheffield to finalise the financial returns and transfer the District tribute to the Emperor before the birthday ball. He was going to have to do something about the Count’s court very soon, too, although the whole idea terrified him. It was staggering along with a highly qualified lawyer as his Voice, but that couldn’t last indefinitely. She cost too much, for one thing.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave Raine behind but he was going to be snowed under with work. It just wasn’t fair on her to ask her to tag along. She’d be bored stupid. It was much better to leave her in Vorbarr Sultana with her mother and Wally, plus Mamère to talk fashion with. Mamère had _plans_ for Winterfair and Miles’s wedding. _Perish the thought_.

He fitted in the demolition of the last tower in Prestwich and toured the site of the first one. Colonel Otto had worked miracles with the clearance. His men had even put in the float-skate track. No one had asked them to do that. School was out for the day and the sand pit he’d promised was full of little boys and girls digging and dumping away.

Brusque, businesslike Otto smiled in total satisfaction. “A change is much better than a rest, sometimes. We should try this more often. The men were determined to see this park up and running. They’ve even been volunteering off-shift. I’ll be able to make an excellent report to the Emperor about training and morale. They all downed tools when the demolitions were scheduled, though. Nobody wanted to miss any of _them_.”

The strangle-vines were a good two metres long already, down the sides of the towers. Ivan could practically see them growing. It all looked very, very different. He could only shake the man’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ll probably be speechless when you get the bill, too,” Otto remarked dryly. “It hasn’t been cheap but we’re under budget. Just.”

“Worth every penny. It’s an investment in the District’s future, Colonel, and I thank you for it.”

They watched the kids play for another couple of minutes. “Kind of makes you want to be seven years old again, doesn’t it?”

Otto nodded. “Someone had to do a test run before we let them loose, and the buck stops at the top. It was great fun.” He glanced at his chrono. “I don’t have to be anywhere for twenty minutes.”

Ivan thought about the state of his desk in the District office. He looked at the kids again. “I don’t have to be anywhere else, either.” He refused to listen to his armsmen. Harper and Fox were only jealous, anyway…

 

He made it back to the capital two days before the birthday. Raine came to meet him in the hallway. She was so beautiful. Her smile lit up the whole house; more than that, it lit up his life too. Marie was home from school as well. She ran down the stairs to have a hug. She looked all grown up in her new uniform.

“My Ivan, did you know? Papi Simon told me. It’s this many days to my birthday!” She held up both hands, fingers splayed out, and then folded back her thumb.

“And how many is that?”

“Nine. In nine days I’ll be seven _standard_.”

“We’ll have to have a party. If you’re going to be seven you can invite seven friends. You’d better start thinking who you want to come.”

She wiggled herself down out of his arms. “I’ll go tell Ma McIver. Can I have a pink cake?”

“I don’t see why not, but I think we’ll ask Mamie to organise things. She likes parties.”

Raine put her hands on her hips and scowled at him as Marie ran back up the stairs. “You lazy sod! Palming off that party onto your mother.”

He kissed the scowl off her face. “Not at all! Mamère would be furious if I didn’t ask her. I just snuck the limit on the guests in first, otherwise we’d be overrun and security would have a meltdown. It’ll be bad enough as it is, but she has to have a party.”

“Has she told you about Da Belka?”

“No. What about Da Belka? She didn’t upset him, did she? She didn’t say anything when I called her this morning.”

“It was so sweet. She plays with Stefa quite a bit, as you know, and yesterday she asked Stefa why her Da always hides when she comes to find her. Stefa said he’d been hurt and didn’t like people to see his face as it scared them.”

“Uh oh. What did she say to that?”

“She said he wasn’t going to scare _her_ because what people look like doesn’t matter, and Stefa must have the best Da ever because she’s such a nice friend. Da Belka came out and she gave him a kiss. Driscoll told me all about it. He put it in the log but I thought I’d tell you myself because it was just lovely.”

Ivan was almost lost for words. “She’s such a sweetheart. My whole life changed when she came into it. Not as much as when you did, but I can’t do without either of you now.”

Raine held out her hand. “Well, talking about sweethearts…Come on into the blue salon. We’re all just about to have tea, so you’re just in time. What’s this I hear about you playing in sand pits?

“Fox, you rat!” He swivelled around to check the hall, but Fox had made a strategic withdrawal. “He’ll keep. I _knew_ he wanted to play too.”

 

Ivan took a day to relax, for the first time in a long time. Everything was under control as best he could manage. Kosa had done a magnificent job on his very best House uniform and boots, plus his sword and seal dagger gleamed. The tribute bag was beautiful and he’d brought gold coins with him from the district, ready to go. There hadn’t been a big tax bill this year, but with any luck next year earnings would be well up. The first shipment of Vor Daggers had reached Beta and were selling well. Sela’s replacement had ordered another five hundred already. There really wasn’t anything left to worry about. Nicolaides had taken care of all the correspondence. Paying people to do his work for him was a great idea when he could get away with it. Maybe it was time to go shopping. How to get out of the house without Raine getting suspicious, though, that was a problem.

It was simple, really. He tagged along and took Marie to school. Harper and Driscoll weren’t too surprised when Ma McIver gave way to their Count, but they _were_ surprised to detour on the way home.

“Sir, Armsman Fox doesn’t know we’re doing this. We should report in,” Harper said.

“Fox spilled the beans about the sand pit,” Ivan replied. “He’s in the bad books. Neither of you are going to spill the beans about this, _are_ you?”

Driscoll popped the canopy, cleared the area then sprang to attention as Ivan alighted. “Spill the beans about what, sir?”

_What_ turned out to be a solid platinum neck chain with a pendant acorn. “What do you think, Driscoll, will she like it?”

“I think so, sir. Very personal, without making any demands, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m not trying to paint her into a corner or anything. It’s personal enough without being too personal, like maybe a ring would be.”

“Exactly.”

It was done. Ivan had it gift wrapped and slid the long box into the inside pocket of his tunic. They were hardly more than thirty minutes late home. Fox had contacted Harper, who’d stayed with the car and didn’t know what had gone on, so he looked suspiciously at the three of them when they came back inside the house.

“Count’s business,” Ivan commented before he could open his mouth. “Nothing to worry about.”

It would be nice to take Raine out for a romantic dinner, just the two of them, and give it to her, but it was hard to be romantic with four ImpSec troopers breathing down their necks. Romance was going to have to wait until Vorresiak was caught. Staying in wasn’t all that bad, though. Staying in bed was even better. Perhaps they could have an early night.

He found Raine in the library, working away at another book, by the looks.

“Had some new inspiration lately?” He bent down to kiss the back of her neck. She leaned into him, far enough to turn her head and kiss him back. Ivan let his hand slip down from her shoulder to wander over the contours of her breast. Her sharp intake of breath left him suddenly wanting, but she pulled away before the flames really took hold.

“You are awful. I’ve got a deadline here.”

“Well, that’s a blow. _I’ve_ got a day off.”

That made her think. “If I get this finished by lunchtime, perhaps I can squeeze in an afternoon off myself?”

He pulled the present out of his pocket and waved it in front of her nose. “I’ll just have to save this until this afternoon, then, won’t I?”

“Is that where you’ve been, out shopping? I thought you might have been getting a present for the Emperor.”

“Gregor doesn’t like my presents. Well, he does, but he pretends he doesn’t. I’ve already got him one for this year. It’s a secret.”

“It had better not be a unicorn shower cap. Laisa’s got him one of those.”

“No, it’s nothing like that—did she? I’d love to see his face.”

“Well, you won’t will you? They’ll be in the shower.”

“Um, yes. I suppose so. Hey! Why did you think _I_ might get him one, then?”

Raine grabbed the present while he was distracted. “Is this for me?”

Ivan tried to drag his thoughts away from the mental picture he’d conjured up. “Yes, if you’d like it. I wanted to get you something to wear tomorrow night. Just say if you’d prefer something else, though.”

Raine was half way through opening the gift package before he’d finished speaking. She slid her hand across the velvet case with something like awe before she opened it.

“Oh.”

That was all she said for a long time. Ivan began to worry.

“We can exchange it. You don’t—“

“Oh, Ivan, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You like it?”

She jumped out of her chair to hug him tightly. “It’s a beautiful gift, Ivan. I love it.”

He took it out of the box to fasten round her neck. “The little nut screws out of the cupule, see? You can stash something in there if you like.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll think about that.” She gave him a big, smacking kiss. “I really have to get on with this. Lord Vordagger can stash poison in his lover’s acorn necklace to let the villain die a lingering, horrible death. I bet Simon can give me a clue what to use.”

Ivan looked at her in horror. “Don’t you go getting ideas like that. I’ll never feel safe again.”

“These books were meant to be cathartic, when I started them. Perhaps we can poison Vorresiak, when we find him.”

“Oh, poison _him_. That would be OK. He’d still have to have his liver for you to do that, though. You’d better get to him before I do.”

Raine sat down again, shaking her head. “I’m sure it’s only on Barrayar that people talk like that and you know they actually mean it.”

“You can bet money on it.”

 

The ground car was pretty full as they made their way to the ball. It was designed for a total of nine people, but with three of them wearing ball gowns the gentlemen had to squish up to get them to fit without creasing anything. Alys and Raine, as the slimmest ladies, sat with Wally between them. Ivan faced Raine, with Aceline beside him and Simon on the far side. Fox, Harper and Driscoll all sat in the front compartment. Ivan was the only one to wear a sword, so that didn’t take up too much room. They managed. Raine’s gown was the bronze colour of autumn leaves. The acorn pendant sat beautifully in her décolletage.

“It’s a nice necklace, isn’t it?” She quipped, after he’d been staring at her for a few minutes.

Ivan looked up and grinned. “What necklace?” He didn’t even need to turn his head to know his mother was frowning at him.

Security was very tight. They’s all been warned in advance that absolutely no weapons, including stunners, were to be allowed beyond the security gates at The Residence. The only exceptions were Counts and serving Vor with their two swords, and ritual Vorfemme knives. Simon and Ivan handed their stunners over to Fox, who locked all five of them into the dash compartment of the ground car. Driscoll had drawn the short straw of staying with the vehicle. He was quite philosophical about it all.

“Watching a whole lot of Vor getting crawling drunk isn’t my idea of fun.” He waved them off and settled down to read.

Miles and Ekaterin had just reached the gates when they got there, with Pym and Roic escorting them. None of the armsmen looked too comfortable at being disarmed, but it was the same for everyone. These particular armsmen were deadly enough without them, anyway.

Miles checked out Ivan’s tribute bag. “Very nice.” He hefted his own in his hand. “Want to get this over with first? Mind you don’t stand chatting to Gregor all night. If every count took five minutes of his time the poor sod would be stuck there for five hours. Hand over the loot, pledge your oath and shove off. You can talk to him later.”

Lady Alys looked down her nose at her reprobate nephew. “Please don’t refer to the Guardian of Three Worlds as a ‘poor sod,’ Miles. It’s highly disrespectful.”

Miles bowed to her. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I can assure you the Emperor’s language was even worse when he complained to me about it.”

“Run along. We’ll wait for you boys in the ballroom. Ekaterin will join us. Give the Emperor our best wishes.”

Summarily dismissed, Ivan and Miles peeled off for the antechamber where Gregor and Laisa were sitting in fine state. Laisa at least had a chair. Gregor’s camp stool looked hideously uncomfortable. There was already a queue of Counts, each flanked by two armsmen. Ivan could tell by Miles’s hissed intake of breath that he’d spotted Count Vorguriyev at the same time as he did, close to the head of the queue.

“He’s got some nerve! Swearing an oath of allegiance with all that’s been going on.”

“He’d have to come, though, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t fall off his horse like Vorclarence said he’d done, or anything like that. Look at Gerard. He’s marked his card.”

Gregor’s armsman commander had his eyes focussed on Vorguriyev’s every move.

Pym, at Miles’s shoulder, braced with alert suspicion. “There’s Count Vorbataille, my lord, and he’s wearing House blacks. And that armsman with him, unless I very much miss my guess, is Huet. I knew him when he first took oath. He’s been Louis Vorbataille’s personal armsman for at least the past five years.”

Ivan and Miles looked at each other. Something was _wrong_. Miles marched straight over to Vorbataille and bailed him up. Ivan was half a step behind him.

“What’s happened, Count? Where’s your son?”

The old man looked stricken. “Huet here brought me the news. My son…Louis is _dead_. Killed on Jackson’s Whole when his yacht was hijacked by Baron Fell’s men. I was going to tell the Emperor.”

“And I have a Star bridge I can sell you,” Miles snapped.

Count Vorbataille unclipped a seal dagger from his belt. “This was Louis’. He never would have parted with it. Huet brought it for me.”

The old man looked genuinely distressed. Louis Vorbataille certainly wasn’t within five miles of The Residence or he’d have been picked up. Miles wouldn’t be taking this on face value though, Ivan could tell. He watched as his cousin looked the armsman up and down. He’d been through the wars, by the look. There was a half-healed scar running up through his hair.

“You stay away from the Emperor, Huet. Pym, take this armsman over to the door. He can wait there.”

Ivan nodded to Fox, who stepped up to Huet’s other side. The armsman glanced from Miles to his Count, who bowed acquiescence. With one last look of burning resentment, Huet marched off. A squad of three ImpSec guards appeared from nowhere. The little exchange had been seen and heard.

It was unsettling. Miles bounced on his toes as the queue inched forwards. He was a ball of suspicion and pent-up energy, ready to blow at any moment, looking everywhere, watching. Pym and Fox came back over after a few minutes.

“Everything checks out, my lord. No weapons, no trace of biologicals or toxins. He’s as clean as a whistle.”

“That’s one thing he’s not. We just can’t prove anything.”

Vorguriyev had left the Presence, Vorbataille presented his tribute without incident and Ivan gradually relaxed as he approached Gregor. Laisa gave him a beaming smile. “You managed to tear yourself away, Ivan? I hope Raine is somewhere close by. I’d like to talk to her.”

_Comparing notes_ , no doubt. Ivan only gave her a quick smile before he went down to one knee in front of Gregor. He placed his tribute on the tray an armsman was holding and held out his hands, palms together. His vow was completely heartfelt.

Gregor looked at him solemnly as he accepted Ivan’s oath. A gleam of a smile crept into his expression before Ivan stood up. “We made a very good choice, Count. I thank you for your untiring service.”

Ivan made way for Dono Vorrutyer, next in line. He bowed to Laisa and moved off. Miles was waiting for him. “ImpSec is on the alert. Huet goes nowhere near Gregor. There’s a cordon round the antechamber.”

There was nothing Ivan could do. Security wasn’t his bailiwick. “So we just act normally then. Let’s go find the ladies and socialise.”

It took Gregor another hour and a half to appear in the ballroom. He looked tired. Ivan wandered over to make sure he had a champagne and a well-padded chair to sit in. He handed over a data-disc.

“Happy Birthday. ImpSec’s cleared it.”

“Thanks, I think. What is it, Ivan?”

“It vid footage of all the demolitions in Prestwich. Normal speed. Slow motion, backwards even, although who would want those towers back up I can’t imagine. All the fireworks, too. It’s also got footage of the kids playing in the park your Imperial Engineers built. I think you’ll like it.”

“I really wanted to see that last demolition. Thank you for thinking of me, Ivan. I appreciate this. I’ll watch it tomorrow.”

Gregor handed the disc off to Gerard. “Was there something else?”

“Yes, sire.” Ivan murmured in his ear. Gregor looked at him, then gave a faint nod.

“Very well, you have my permission.”

Ivan circled back to his table via the bandmaster. He held his hand out to Raine. “Will you dance the Mazurka with me, Raine?”

“Of course.” She laid her hand on his and they walked out onto the floor together as the sets made up. Raine was a very good dancer. Ivan knew they made a good-looking couple as they moved through the figures. He hadn’t lost his knack with clicking his heels, either.

“You’re very quiet.” Raine said, after looking at him for a few minutes. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No.” Ivan smiled a lazy smile at her. “Just waiting.”

She looked puzzled, but the dance took them apart just then as the ladies were handed round the set. At the conclusion, all the gentlemen sank to one knee and the ladies circled round to curtsey. Ivan kissed her hand and held it. As the couples started to clear the floor he made no effort to move.

“What’s the matter, Ivan, have you hurt your back?”

They were nearly alone on the floor, now. A startled ripple of shock spread through the crowd. Ivan could just see Gregor leaning over to murmur to Laisa before he centred his whole attention on Raine.

“Valeraine Amelie Vorfolse, would you do me the great honour of marrying me?”

There was a hushed silence in the ballroom as everyone who could see held their breath. Raine looked down at him with something close to horror on her face.

“I promised you I’d wait until the Emperor’s birthday,” Ivan reminded her.

“Yes, you did.” She paused again. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife. Her expression slowly changed. The smile started in her eyes and blossomed like a flower. “Ivan Xav Vorpatril Voralys, Yes, thank you. I would love to marry you.”

 

 


	38. Too good to be true

 

 

Miles put two fingers into his mouth and whistled hard. Laisa doubled over with laughter and even Gregor let a rare, true smile cross his face. Raine tried to pull him to his feet. “You crazy show-off. I can’t believe you just did that!”

Ivan stood up at last and shut off her protest with a long kiss. Miles whistled again, until Ekaterin slapped his arm to persuade him into silence. Ivan finally broke away. He could feel joy just bubbling out. He'd never been as happy. “Do you think we should tell the parents the good news?”

Raine leaned in and whispered. “I think they might already know.”

“Well,” Ivan held out his arm. “I think I should go and present my intended bride to the Emperor, don’t you?”

The band struck up again for the next dance as they crossed the floor to Gregor and Laisa. She jumped up and kissed Raine on both cheeks before hugging her. “Well done! Good decision, Raine. Congratulations! Congratulations, Ivan. You’re a lucky man.”

She hugged him tightly until Gregor coughed behind her. “Our turn.” He shook Ivan’s hand, and then hugged him as well. “Trying to one-up Miles, Ivan?”

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Ivan replied. “I was never going to get another chance like that. She can’t back out now. Too many witnesses.”

They were swamped by a crowd. Aceline, Wally, Ekaterin and Alys all stood with tears in their eyes. Simon had a broad grin on his face. Gregor must have had a word as the waiters appeared with trays of champagne. Ivan caught sight of Miles, standing at the back of the crowd. He reached out to haul him over and pull him up into a hug.

Miles hugged him back. “Congratulations, coz. Who’d have thought? I just lost a hundred marks. My bet was not a day before you turned thirty-five. I do believe Simon’s the winner in the pool.”

Ivan looked up, into the eyes of his stepfather in all but name. “I’m glad, sir.”

Simon had his arm threaded through Alys’s as they stood together. “This is a very joyful day for me, with all three of my boys so happy.”

Ivan couldn’t stop smiling at Raine. “I’m moving on from no father to _two._ I’ll have to behave myself. If Simon doesn’t get me, Wally will.”

"We’ll have a ball every year to celebrate, too.” Miles looked around. “Where’s that champagne?”

It took a while for the furore to die down, but at last Ivan managed to get Raine to himself. He hooked his fingers around two champagne glasses on a passing tray and handed one to her. He shook his head at Fox. No company needed this time, _thank you very much_. His armsman smiled acknowledgement and crossed to the wall to stand beside Pym.

“I know somewhere we can go,” he murmured. “It’s traditional. I do believe my father entertained _his_ lady friends in the gazebo.”

“I find it hard to believe your mother ever canoodled with anyone, let alone in there,” Raine objected. “Perhaps it wasn’t your mother.”

“I know it wasn’t,” Ivan confessed. “Count Vorhalas told me all about Lady Mary Vorville, _and_ Countess Vorpinski.”

“What, both of them? At once? But they’re _sisters_.”

Ivan shrugged. “Apparently so. Count Vorhalas would never tell a lie.”

They’d been walking through the empty audience antechamber and out along the terrace as the noise of the party died away. He led her downhill on a gravel path. It was quite secluded in this part of the palace gardens; they’d only seen one man pass them, an armsman on patrol on the other walk. The bulk of the gazebo loomed up in the dark patch between the pretty coloured lanterns. Ivan ducked his head to lead her in and stopped short. “Shit!”

There was a body on the bench in the gazebo. The light colour of her dress was all that gave her away. “Shitoshitoshit.” He dashed back out and ripped one of the coloured lanterns from its stand. In the yellow light Evelina Vortien lay on the bench very, very dead, her throat slashed open and her dress rumpled up and ripped wide at the neck.

“Bloody hell. There’s _two_ of them!” Another body lay face down on the ground. His dark House uniform and hair had disguised him until Ivan nearly stood on him. Ivan reached down to turn him over. _Count Vorguriyev!_ There was nothing Ivan could do; blank eyes stared widely at the night sky.

Raine covered her mouth as she gasped in shock. Ivan slammed the alarm on his wristcom and hustled Raine to stand behind him. He reached for his stunner, only to remember he’d had to leave it outside the security gate.

Fox’s loud, anxious voice came through his wristcom. “Count? Where are you? What’s happened?”

“Get to the Emperor, Fox! Raise the alarm. Tell Pym. Tell Miles. For God’s sake, tell ImpSec. He’s here!”

Ivan grabbed Raine’s hand and bolted up the path. With her long skirts dragged up into one hand she struggled to keep up with him. He hurtled across the terrace and into the antechamber where they’d paid their tributes. Gregor often retreated here when he’d had enough of the hubbub in the ballroom. Ivan nearly sobbed with relief when there was no sign of the Emperor. _Someone_ was there though. There was light enough in the room to finally see the colour of his uniform. A _Vorbataille_ armsman had nearly reached the other exit. It hadn’t been one of Gregor’s men on the other path at all; he’d just seen what he’d expected to see.

“Stop! Stop right there.”

The man turned. It wasn’t Huet. He heard Raine’s horrified gasp. She didn’t need to say anything else. The eyes told him everything he needed to know. Vorresiak had a seal dagger in his right hand and a smaller one in his left. It looked like a Vorfemme knife. Oh, yes, of course. Evelina Vortien’s Vorfemme knife. Red mist roared up into Ivan’s eyes. _Now_ he’d got the bastard. He only had the one weapon he could use. His sword hissed into his hand and he unhooked his sword belt in one smooth movement with his left hand to avoid tripping over the scabbard. He’d learned _that_ lesson back in the Academy.

Vorresiak crouched into a fighter’s stance, flipping the dagger from a downward-stabbing grip to hold it like a short sword. Ivan wasn’t going to bother with niceties. He lunged, his blade only just missing Vorresiak’s ear as the man desperately dived and rolled away.

“You need something better than that, Count,” he taunted as he sprang back to his feet, his eyes flicking backwards and forwards, looking for an escape. He saw Raine, standing white and shaking to one side. Recognition flashed into his face. “You! You _bitch_. You pathetic whore. Is he getting what you wouldn’t give me? If you’d played your cards right you could have been Empress—”

Ivan’s sword flashed in, drawing blood as Vorresiak only just avoided losing his arm with another frantic roll. His left hand came up and the vorfemme knife flew through the air. It was Ivan’s turn to dive sideways. _Too slow!_ He felt a thump as the knife struck home. There wasn’t any pain but the sword caught between the legs of a chair and wrenched from his hand. There wasn’t time for anything. Back on his feet in one continuous roll he flung himself forward, determined to hold Vorresiak until help came. He closed one hand around his neck, the other holding off the seal dagger. Vorresiak had the strength of a madman. He rolled, struggling to free the dagger and turn it down towards Ivan’s neck.

He couldn’t hold him, couldn’t stave off the inexorable descent of the blade. Ivan saw the fury in the other man’s eyes turn to insane triumph as he realised he had won.

“I’m sorry, Raine. I’m so sorry.” He had no breath to call out to her. All he could think was that he’d failed. Failed _her_. Failed his darling Raine.

Vorresiak’s expression changed from mad triumph to shock. The light vanished from his eyes as his whole weight slumped forward. The seal dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Pounding feet sounded across the room. He could hear Miles’s frantic voice screaming his name. Fox ripped the body off him as Pym dropped to his knees by his head. “Don’t you move, Count. We’ve got you.”

“Raine…” Ivan could hardly talk. What the hell was wrong?

“She’s safe. Stay with us, Ivan. Help’s coming.”

Pym's face dissolved round the edges. His mouth moved, but there was no sound. Ivan’s last sensation as the room turned black was the smell of blood.

 

He could hear something. It was the relentless beep of a monitor, and he wanted it to go away. His lips were stuck together, his throat blocked. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t call for help. He couldn’t open his eyes, either…The sound roared in his head again as the relentless blackness claimed him back.

 

Ivan felt a moist cloth at his mouth. There was something in his throat, choking him. He panicked, trying to breathe.

“Take it easy. Gently, now, Ivan, it’s coming out.” There was a tug and a slither and at last his throat felt clear. He recognised the voice.

“Wall—”

“Shh. No talking. Doctor’s orders.” It _was_ Wally, bossy as ever. He didn’t really want to talk, anyway. He was too tired for that, but he had to know.

“Raine?”

“Shh, now. She’s safe. Everyone’s safe. The Emperor is fine. Go to sleep. Raine will be here when you wake up.”

 

There were too many tubes sticking in him. Ivan could feel them. Blood and saline running in, and one of those double-damned catheters. That foul thing could come out, stat. A hypospray hissed against his arm.

“Come on, time to wake up. Open your eyes, Ivan.”

There he was again, giving him orders. “Piss off, Wally, you sadist.”

“ _That’s_ more like the Ivan we know and love. Raine’s here, Ivan. You need to wake up, now.”

Why did opening your eyes make you so tired? He had to struggle to do it, and struggle to focus. Oh, yes. That was Raine. There was a light shining behind her. It made her look like she had a halo.

“There really is a heaven. Aunt Cordelia always says so.” He gave up trying to focus. It was all too hard.

“I’m no saint. Look at me, Ivan.”

What was a man to do, with a request like that? He made another effort. She smiled down at him, her eyes wet with tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, honey. It’s alright. I’ll be fine. Just…tired. I’m so tired.”

She kissed his hand, the one with no tubes attached, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. He turned his head to meet her. That was better.

“You sleep, then, darling. Everything here is under control. So many people are looking out for you.”

 

Finally his eyes flickered open without someone bullying him into it. The room was dim and quiet. With his superior intellect he deduced it must be late at night. His cousin sat slumped in the chair beside him. It did seem a shame to wake him up, but since when was that a problem? He wanted a drink. Serve him right to get woken up. He should have found that lunatic first. This was all his fault. Ivan tried rolling over. That was a bad idea. So was trying to swivel across the bed.

“Miles?” His voice was too quiet, dry and scratchy. That didn’t work. He really needed that drink. He tried again, louder. “Hey, Miles!” Honestly, was he deaf? “Oi, Vorkosigan! Wake up.” Ohhh… bad idea, very bad idea, raising his voice. His head nearly exploded.

Miles sat bolt upright. “Ivan? Ivan, it’s you! You’re awake.”

“No wonder…the Emperor…employed you as an Auditor. You’re a genius. ...I need water.”

Miles leaned over the bed and held a cup of water to his lips. “You’ve given us one hell of a fright this time, Ivan.” He put the cup down and found his hand instead. The grip was tight with emotion. Ivan blinked to clear his eyes.

“How long have I been here?”

“Five days.”

“ _Five days?_ Shit. What the hell happened to me?”

“Vorfemme knife to the liver.”

“What, one of those puny little things? They wouldn’t give me this much of a headache.”

“Well, it was a dirty Vorfemme knife, Ivan, designed to kill a Vorbarra. The toxin was run up on Jackson’s Whole. Luckily, you only have one eighth Vorbarra genes. Even luckier, most of it got wiped off beforehand somewhere in Vorguriyev’s back. Oh, and the liver laceration hasn’t done you much good, either. It caught the hepatic portal vein and gave you peritonitis, too.”

“Well that’s shit.”

“You should be on the road to recovery soon, Wally says.”

“I wouldn’t want to get any damn worse, and that’s no lie. I think I might go back to sleep. …Oh, double shit!”

“What?” Miles jumped up again. “what’s wrong now?”

“Marie’s birthday. It’s when?”

“Two more days. It’s all taken care of. You can talk to her tomorrow on the comconsole and let her know you’re going to be fine. I’ll sort out a present for her.”

Ivan felt his eyes closing again. “Don’t want to lie to the little sweetheart.” He never heard the reply.

At least when he’d been knocked out he hadn’t felt much pain. His head thumped every time he moved, he was as sick as a dog and even his eyes had turned yellow, when he finally got to have look at them.

“Yep. Your liver’s pretty shot,” Wally told him, bending over and flashing lights into his eyes and poking fingers where he didn’t want to be poked. “It’s going to take a while. We’re growing you a new one, just in case, but that’s kind of a last resort.” The admiral’s face hardened. “Bastards who fight this dirty are totally despicable. That poison was meant for Gregor, Ivan. This is the second time you’ve saved him.”

“What happened?”

“The Emperor’s coming down, as soon as you’re coherent, which is now, so I’ll let him know. He’ll tell you himself. He’s been here every day. He finally Requested and Required Miles to take a sleep timer, otherwise he’d still have been here as well. The Lord Auditor is in the next room. You can almost hear the snoring from here. I’m going to let a very worried armsman in for exactly two minutes, then you can rest until Gregor gets here. Your other visitors can wait, apart from Raine. She only went home to get some sleep last night, too, once we knew for certain.”

“Knew what?”

“That we’d got on top of that toxin. Good job you’re as fit as you are, son. It was close.”

Ivan realised what was wrong. It had been niggling at him “Hey, haven’t you retired? You’re supposed to be working for me, now. Vaccinating babies.”

“One last job. I was on the spot.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Fox came in and stood by the bed. He looked worse than Ivan felt. “Not your fault, Fox. Stop worrying. Go home and sleep.”

His armsman’s face relaxed. “When Harper comes on shift. He won’t be long. It’s good to see you back with us, sir.”

Who mentioned sleep? It was a good idea, much better than vomiting. Ivan tried to doze off, but it wasn’t happening. At last he was distracted by movement in the corridor. Gerard poked his head in. Even here, he cleared the room first.

“Good to see you awake, Count.” He stood back to allow his master to enter.

Gregor walked over to the bed and looked down at Ivan. He didn’t say anything for a while.

“Been there, done that,” Ivan said, to break the ice. Gregor relaxed. Some of the guilt and anxiety left his face.

“OK, I won’t say it. It’s all over, Ivan.”

“Sit down and tell me what happened. …Sire.”

That did make Gregor smile. He pulled over a chair. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Where was he hiding for so long?”

“Vortien’s District in an abandoned hunting lodge. Evelina Vortien was the missing link in a long chain, up through Marcel Vorevreaux to Vorbataille, to Vorresiak, to the Mister X we still haven’t tracked, on Jackson’s Whole.”

“How does a kid twenty years old get mixed up in this cesspool? Well, she’s paid the price.”

“You remember it all?”

Ivan refrained from nodding. “Yeah, pretty much. I thought I was dead. Did Miles get him?”

“Miles? No, he was nowhere near. They were all shoving me into the panic room first. You, Count Voralys, are marrying a woman in the best tradition of the family.”

“ _Raine_ killed him?” He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“She certainly did, with that fancy new seal dagger you were wearing. You dropped your sword belt, apparently.”

“Yes, I did that. Can’t fight with the two swords, don’t you know? The Emperor doesn’t like it. It didn’t stop Vorresiak, though.” _Raine_ had killed the bastard. Here he was boasting he was going to cut Vorresiak’s liver out, and he’d been no match for him, in the end.

“How the hell did he get in?”

“We took Huet alive. He’s been singing like a bird with the fast-penta. Vorresiak, Vorbataille and Huet were the three at the shuttleport. They switched transport three times, all arranged by Imola and Marcel Vorevreaux, and ended up at the hunting lodge. That’s where they stashed the drugs all along, too.”

“Had this all been planned for the birthday party?”

Gregor nodded. “Yes, it was all pretty much for revenge. Vorguriyev dumped Vorresiak like a hot potato after he showed his true colours with Raine. He was the first target. They used Evelina to get him on his own. She was the only one armed, of course, until they got the Count’s dagger off him. Vorresiak must have been waiting near the gazebo. You saw the result. Miles’s theory is she panicked and stabbed Vorguriyev with her Vorfemme knife, then Vorresiak was so angry she’d wasted the poison he slashed her throat. We don’t really know what went wrong, though. Perhaps nothing as she was always expendable.”

Ivan’s head started to hurt worse than ever. Twenty years old. Expendable. “Where did they do the switch?”

“When Huet was ejected, security didn’t question his replacement going in. Counts are always allowed two armsmen, after all. We found the real Vorbataille armsman dead.”

“That simple?”

“Yes. ImpSec thought he was the one who’d stayed back with the car. _He’d_ been dead ever since the Count had gone in and he’d parked up. Plenty of time for Vorresiak to switch his clothes. Huet had smuggled him in.”

“Why was Huet there at all? They must have known he’d be spotted.”

“Good question. To try and convince us Lord Louis was dead, perhaps? Count Vorbataille was on the list, too, with Raine, of course, and probably you. I was the ultimate target. Vorresiak was going to wait for me to retire to the antechamber. I think he still thought he could switch places. He was completely insane.”

Ivan remembered those eyes. He shuddered. “Oh, yes. He was that.” He struggled to take it all in. “Have you got the others?”

“Vorevreaux’s going to die, alongside Huet. Not Vorbataille. He’s still out there. And not the king maker, whomever he is.”

“You won’t be safe until Vorbataille is caught.”

Gregor stood up. “We’ll be fine. Vorbataille is a bit player. He can’t last long, especially as We’re going to let Miles deal with him. We want it all cleared up before the wedding. You need to be better for that, Ivan. Miles can’t get married if you’re not there to be his second.”

 

 


	39. No hard feelings.

 

 

Talking to Gregor completely exhausted Ivan. Wally fussed around a little bit, cracking jokes about the lengths some people went to trying to get out of chores, but Ivan wasn’t too tired to see the way his face changed as he checked some readouts.

“Time for another shot, I think. Have a proper sleep, Ivan. We’ll look after you.”

The next time he woke up, Raine sat beside him, holding his left hand. On his other side, a sinister machine hissed quietly and blinked green and amber lights at him. He didn’t like the look of the tubes leading away from the machine and under the cover on the bed. “What?”

Raine looked up from the reader in her lap. “Oh, you’re back.” Her face softened into the most beautiful smile. She leaned in to kiss him. “You had a bit of a relapse.”

“I did? When?”

“Yesterday. Sudden blood pressure drop and your liver enzymes misbehaved.”

“Is that what the gizmo’s for?”

“It’s _scrubbing the toxic metabolites,_ or so Wally told me. You’ll be stuck here until things settle down.”

“Raine?”

She looked up to meet his gaze. He could see the worry in her eyes. “ _Are_ they going to settle down?”

“Oh, _yes_. Wally’s not going to let anything bad happen to you. Well, nothing worse, anyway. Every liver specialist in Vorbarr Sultana has consulted on you. Gregor’s even called in someone from Solstice. He arrived last night; hot courier all the way. It might all just take a while.”

“I can’t stay here…the District. Oh, damn and blast, _Marie!_ I’ve missed her birthday…the party.”

“No, it’s today. That’s why your mother isn’t here. She and Simon are organising everything. By Vorrutyer volunteered to help, as well. You don’t want to see your ballroom, though. By followed Marie’s instructions to the letter.”

Ivan winced. “Pink?”

“Ohhh, yes. Did you know there are twenty shades of pink?”

“Yes, I did, actually, but I bet there’s no puce anywhere.”

“How did you—never mind. Apparently you told her she could invite seven friends?”

“That’s right. Something wrong with that?”

“Not at all. Her list was Stefa, Fox, Harper, Driscoll, Mamie, Papi, and you.”

“Awww…Really?”

“She’s never had a party before, you see. Don’t worry. Papi Simon explained everything. There’s seven boys and girls coming, _plus_ Fox, Harper and Driscoll get to eat pink cupcakes. They are _so_ impressed you can’t imagine. There’s a pony or two in your courtyard, by the way.”

He fiddled with his sheet, smoothing it out. “Who…um…told her about me?”

“That was Papi Simon again. I think it was pretty difficult for him. She doesn’t want to come visit just yet.”

“No, she wouldn’t. I don’t want her to see me like this, either. When I’m better, maybe.”

Raine kissed him again. “All _you_ have to worry about is getting well. I’ve never seen so may people rallying around to help out. My mother is looking after Voralys House. She and Ma Belka are as thick as thieves already. Your mother and Simon are dedicating themselves to Marie. Helen and Philip Nicolaides are working with By on District matters down in New Sheffield. We’ll have to give that woman a job. She is _awesome_.”

Ivan caught his breath at the unconscious _we._ It sounded just right. Raine hadn’t noticed a thing. She went right on. “The Emperor is just awesome. He told me I had to call him Gregor, now. Can you imagine? Anyway, _Gregor_ has authorised Colonel Otto to continue with the rejuvenation work in Prestwich, _and_ you don’t have to pay him anything more. _Gregor_ asked Etienne Vorinnis to be your Voice and voting deputy. Sela Thorne has volunteered to co-ordinate all the tourist business until Etienne can concentrate on it again. You can’t get a flimsy between it and By, just by the way. It’s so sweet.” She paused to think, while Ivan tried to imagine By Vorrutyer as _sweet_. It didn’t happen.

“What else? Oh, yes. There are four trainee armsmen reporting to Fox next week. _Gregor_ sent them. You get final say of course, but one of them is Adrian Walton who apparently you know all about?”

“Oh, yes, I know about Walton. District man, long line of armsmen.”

Ivan’s attention was wandering. It was wandering to Raine, actually, and what had happened. “Gregor told me…”

“Oh, that.” She blushed. “I’d only just decided I was going to marry you. There was _no way_ that bastard was going to take you away from me after all that. What he’d done to poor Evelina, too. He had to _pay_.” Her expression turned feral. Ivan could see generations of Vor women lining up behind her. “I can fight for my own when I need to.”

Suddenly she smiled again. “Enough of that. We have a wedding to plan.”

“No. _We_ have something better to do. Come here.”

It was a bit crowded, but at last Ivan ended up with Raine snuggled in with her head on his shoulder and the whole length of her body pressed against his. That was all he needed for now.

 

Marie came to the hospital to bring him home. With Papi on one side and Mamie on the other she marched in bravely. Raine was already there with Ivan, ready to prop him up if he looked like falling over. There was no way they were going to ship him out in a float chair but he’d wisely decided to sit on the bed when Marie came in. A feather would knock him over, never mind an onslaught from Marie.

Her smile would have lit up the municipal stadium. He held out his hands. “Hello, princess. Have you come to take me home?”

She barrelled into his arms. He ended up flat on his back on the bed. He’d been right. Ow! “Hey, don’t strangle me!”

“My Ivan,” Marie looked up at him. She’d stopped smiling. “Can I call you Da? I want you to be my Da.”

Ivan felt hot tears prick at his eyes. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Of course you can, sweetheart. I want to be your Da, too. I’m your second Da, mind. We won’t forget that.”

She slithered to the floor and pulled on his hand. “You have to come home right now, Da. Uncle Miles brought me a _triffic_ present for my birthday! You have to see. I called one Princess and one Prince Xav.”

Ivan stared at Simon in foreboding. “ _What_ did Miles give my daughter for a present?”

Simon burst out laughing. Even his mother _giggled_. Raine bit her lip.

“Uncle Miles gave me two kittens, Da. They are _beautiful_!”

 

Vengeance. Ivan brooded for days. He had nothing better to do. He was as weak as the two kittens who managed to find him no matter what he did while Marie was at school. The minute he got out of his bedroom, which was just before lunch most days, they’d pounce. Short of locking them up they’d weasel their way up from the kitchens somehow. Miles was going to _suffer_. Ivan’s boots had already suffered. He made sure he only wore his oldest, most battered ones as the kittens insisted on clawing their way up his legs.

There was a list of people a mile long who wanted to talk to Ivan, but the first visitor he chose to come to the house apart from family and the Koudelkas was Count Vorhalas. Ivan resorted to locking the kittens in their carry box when he was due to arrive. Harper took them out to the laundry room so their piteous protests wouldn’t make the old man think he was torturing someone.

Vorhalas looked very troubled. He made Ivan stay sitting down when he was ushered into the library. “Don’t you get up, my boy. Stay where you are. They told me you were recovering.” He shook Ivan’s hand and settled into a chair beside him. “I’m allowed ten minutes. If that’s recovering, I can’t think what you must have looked like before. It’s a very bad business.”

Vorhalas didn’t even know about the Vorbarra angle. With luck, nobody would _ever_ know about the Vorbarra angle. “It would have been so much worse if he’d reached the Emperor, sir. All’s well that ends well.”

“That’s very generous of you. You know Vortien wants to see you. His House owes you a blood debt because of his granddaughter’s stupidity. The new Count Vorguriyev wants to see you as well, and no doubt Vorevreaux, too. Vorbataille won’t see anyone for weeks. He’s had to be restrained from committing suicide over the grief his son has brought to Barrayar. The Emperor spoke to him about it all. Louis will be caught, eventually, if he doesn’t do the right thing.”

Ivan felt weak at the very thought of dealing with what sounded like half the Council of Counts. Vorhalas saw his expression.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. No-one will come near you until the Council is reconvened. What I can’t understand is where all this treachery is coming from! These boys are no different in age to you, and yet your loyalty to the Imperium is like a beacon in the dark. Vorolney’s youngest boy is mixed up in it all as well. His involvement is very unsavoury indeed. What makes the difference? Is it their mothers? I have no love for the Vorkosigans as you well know, but Cordelia and Alys have done Barrayar proud. I’m glad I’m not the one who has to do the winnowing, is all I can say. It’s going to be a bloody affair.”

Fox interrupted with wine and a plate of the ogorki and ham Vorhalas loved. He had a carafe of apple juice for Ivan.

Vorhalas sent the wine away, although he eyed the apple juice with extreme disfavour. “I can’t sit here and drink wine in front of you. I’ll keep you company. Fate deals with us very harshly, sometimes.” He nibbled on some air-dried ham. “I actually came to see if you require any assistance with writing your submissions to the inquiry. There’s going to be a lot of weaseling and double talk. If you tell me what you want to say, or let me see your drafts, I’ll make sure it can’t be twisted or misinterpreted. It’s very easy to misstep when you’re dealing with the Council. You have my word it will be your true thoughts.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sir. It’s very generous of you.” Ivan made up his mind. “Yes, I’d like your help. I don’t know how to think like a weasel, although I’m learning. Some of those Counts would run rings around me.”

“Good. I’ll leave you to rest. Remember you have friends, Count. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

 

There was one event Ivan was determined to attend, the doctors could take a wormhole jump to hell if they thought he was going to miss it, and that was Dono’s and Olivia’s wedding. It was held in the capital, in the ballroom at Vorhartung Castle, the father of the bride being able to afford such a grand setting. Ivan had to wear his second best House uniform, which was now his best House uniform again. It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t about him, after all.

By took his place as Dono’s witness and Sela Thorne stood on the second circle next to Ivan. It wore a fetching blue gown to match its eyes, but its strong left arm was of great assistance when Ivan started to wobble just a bit. As soon as By swept the groats aside with his boot Ivan made a beeline for a chair and watched the rest of the proceedings unfold. Olivia as a bride was even more stunning than her sister Delia, who stood as second witness. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone lovelier. Dono was about to burst with pride as he strolled around with Olivia on his arm. She was taller than him but Dono’s charisma made the difference negligible.

Ivan only waited to wish the happy couple well before he slipped away. He couldn’t drink anything, his diet was so restricted as to be ridiculous, and he was attracting way too much attention away from the newly-weds. He was happy to have an early night, and he could see the fireworks from his bedroom window just as well as the balcony at Vorhartung.

Drou saw him slipping out and hurried over. “Thank you, Ivan. It meant a lot to Olivia and us all to have you here.” She paused to look at him more carefully. “You’re far too thin. I’ll bring cake.”

“Just bring yourself, Tante Drou,” Ivan said, “with all the holovids. I can’t eat cake, yet. I’m hoping to be better by Winterfair, And Miles’s wedding. I have to toast his health at that.”

“We’re so very proud of you, Ivan, so very proud.” He disappeared in one of Drou’s best hugs, one of the nicest things about her. She just oozed love.

Fox and Raine had to help him to the ground car.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” he asked Raine. “By and Sela said they’d look after you. Ekaterin’s here, as well as Mamère and Simon.”

“I’m happy to have you all to myself. We might just have to experiment a little and see how your recovery is going. I need some inspiration for _Lord Vordagger’s Bride_. Wally didn’t give you any rules about that, did he?”

Perhaps the evening wasn’t a write-off after all. Ivan’s flagging spirits suddenly took on a more optimistic tone. Who needed to watch fireworks, anyway? Much better to make their own.

 

The fireworks turned into a damp squib, much to Ivan’s utter horror. The only time this sort of thing had happened to him before was on that always to be forgotten visit to Cetaganda and Lord Yenaro’s party. Raine had been so wonderful about it all but that just made things worse. He finally plucked up his courage and talked to Wally.

“I’m really sorry to hear it, Ivan. It is a known side effect of the sort of toxicity your body suffered. I’d hoped everything would have resolved itself by now. You’re going to have to give it more time. Maybe some mild exercise to improve circulation, but don’t try to force anything. It’s perfectly normal, but I really do understand how upsetting it is. Try not to worry, it’ll only make things worse.”

Yes, right. Don’t think about a pink elephant.

It wasn’t long until Miles’s wedding at Winterfair. Their birthdays had passed very quietly, Miles because he was off planet and Ivan’s because he was banned from doing _anything_. He didn’t even go to light the offering to his father. There was no point having a birthday when you couldn’t drink. He supposed he should be glad to have lived to _see_ another birthday. It was miserable though. The weather was shit. His food was shit. He could do shit all. His only happiness was to sit in the corner and wallow in shit. Not even Raine or Marie could cheer him up, some days. Everyone tiptoed around, like he was dying, or something. Perhaps Vorresiak should have done a better job of it and saved everyone else the misery of having to put up with him.

Wally kept trying to have a word with him. Ivan kept telling him to bugger off.

Miles had sent a message just about every other day. Ivan heard he was back on planet but with his wedding rapidly approaching he was apparently snowed under with work, far too busy to come and see his sick cousin. Ekaterin had disappeared under her mound of university studies and wedding planning. By was managing Doublevee Aesthetica on his own, with some very good advice from Sela, but they were also supposed to be working in his District. Ivan knew he should get off his skinny butt and go back to work. He thought about it. He thought about it some more and then he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Miles found him in his bed. He strode over to the windows and swept back the curtains to let the winter light flood in. Not content with that he turned the artificial lighting up to full. “Afternoon, Coz!”

“Umph.” Ivan pulled the covers over his head. They disappeared after a short struggle.

“Out!”

“Fuck off.”

“Do I need to fetch some armsmen?”

“My armsmen work for _me_. How the hell did you get in, anyway?”

“Your mother sent for me. You won’t talk to her, apparently. I didn’t mean _your_ armsmen. I meant _my_ armsmen. Pym and Roic are waiting in the hall.”

There was a bit of a standoff. Miles tapped his foot. “Ivan, I have two words to say to you.”

“Yeah? I’m worried.”

“Ice bath.”

That made him look. “What? I’m sick, not catatonic. You wouldn’t dare.”

There was silence for another minute. Ivan looked again. “You would dare, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d better believe it. Out of bed, Ivan. You haven’t died or anything.”

Only Miles could get away that. Well, maybe Etienne Vorinnis could, as well. Ivan sighed. He rolled over and pulled himself up to sit at the side of the bed. It was an effort to stand up.

“My life is shit, Miles.”

“Welcome to my world. What’s shit about Raine?”

“ _Nothing_. I don’t deserve her.”

“So, what’s shit about Marie?”

“How could anything about a little darling like that be shit? Apart from her pets, of course.” That rancour still seethed. Miles was smirking at him. The rat had most definitely done it on purpose.

“A misery shared is a misery halved. You should know that.”

“I wasn’t miserable before those cats,” Ivan objected.

“Who said anything about you? _I_ was. I have two less miseries to worry about, now. So,” Miles hurried on before Ivan could tell him what he thought of him, “you have Raine and you have Marie, and your life is still shit.”

“Well, put it like that, no, not all of it’s shit.”

“So what, exactly, _is_ shit? You realise you’re depressed, and that’s a clinical condition. You need medication.”

Ivan kicked his toe into the carpet. Miles was his closest family, after all, apart from his mother. He couldn’t talk about this to his mother. Miles wouldn’t laugh, would he? “I have ED.”

“Serves you right after the way you put yourself around for all those years. If it moved you were after it and I’m sure you didn’t know where some of them had been. Have you told Raine?”

What? What the hell was he on about? Oh. “Not VD, you _ass_. ED.”

“Oh, _ED_. I thought you were looking skinny. Eating Disorders are very treatable, Ivan. We’ll get you all the help you need.”

Ivan threw his pillow as hard as he could, which wasn’t very hard at the moment.

“What? What did I say? I’m only trying to help.”

Ivan clutched at his hair. “Remember Cetaganda, Miles? Yenaro’s drug?”

Miles look puzzled for a moment. “Yenaro?” The light dawned. His eyes lit up with mirth.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

Miles bit his lip. He went red in the face. His chest started heaving, and then he wheezed. Wheezing turned to sniggering. He staggered over to the bed and rolled on it.

“Oh, I lived to see the day! You’ve worn it out, Ivan!”

Ivan looked around for something to throw. Something hard.The miserable little turd was laughing at him.

Miles’ sniggering turned to howling. There were tears running down his face as he clutched at his stomach.

Ivan sucked in a deep breath. It came out very unevenly. The next one turned into a snort. He dropped to a chair and held his head in his hands. His shoulders started to shake as the laughter welled up.

“It’s alright, Miles. You can laugh. No hard feelings, eh?”

Miles fell on the floor.

 

 


	40. Love is in the air

 

 

Once he’d stopped laughing, Miles told Ivan a few things he hadn’t mentioned before, about his own recovery. In the solidarity of misfortune it was somehow easy to relax about it all.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Ivan? You’ve had all this worry for nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s always been a …well…an accomplishment, if you know what I mean. Once I got over being a lout, it was something I did _well_.”

Miles got to the nitty-gritty. “It was something you did better than me, you mean.”

Ivan wasn't having that. “I did _lots_ of things better than you, but yes, if we’re being brutally honest, it was something I had you didn’t.”

“So when did you get over being a lout? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ivan threw a second pillow. Miles grinned, but the smile died away. “So when?”

“When I hurt Elena. I never really meant to, you know. I was just…a lout.”

“You’d better hope she’s forgiven you at last. She’ll be here soon, with Baz and baby Cordelia.”

“Is Elli Quinn coming? She scares the shit out of me.”

“No.” Miles didn’t say anything else. Fair enough. Best not go there. Miles stood up at last. “I’m going home, Coz. Things to do and people to see. I think I’ve done all I came for?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Miles.” They were cousins. That’s what cousins did, and without the ice bath, thank you very much, so much the better. It was easier to talk to Wally after that. With some simple meds and an exercise program things seemed somewhat brighter. One of these days life would start looking up.

The countdown to the wedding began to get serious when the Viceroy and Vicereine returned from Sergyar. As Second, Ivan really should have organised the bachelor party, but Gregor pulled rank on that one. It marked the start of the seven day countdown. Ivan was just thankful to run away for the day as Alys and Cordelia were hosting the ladies in his dining room. Cordelia’s idea of fun was alarming, sometimes. The looks on his armsmen’s faces when they were seconded to unpack and decorate made him decide not to peek. He had to laugh when they all volunteered to escort him for the day.

“Sorry. I only need one. Harper and Driscoll, _you_ are taking Marie and Stefa to the zoo _and_ the art gallery for the day, so you’re going above and beyond. Fox is coming with me.” He turned to his trainee armsmen. “Nothing like getting thrown in at the deep end. If the four of you can survive this, you can survive anything. Ask Kosa and Sarmiento if you’re unsure. Just listen _very carefully_ to the briefing my mother gives you. You can tell your grandchildren all about it.”

They were all due to meet at Vorkosigan House to depart for a secret location. Fox delivered him in plenty of time, early in fact, as Count Vorkosigan had asked to see him. Aral was making his way down the main staircase as Roic ushered them into the hall. “Ah, Ivan! Excellent. How are you son?” Aral crossed the black and white tiles to wring his hand and subject him to a very close scrutiny. “I can’t say what’s in my heart, but once again, we have you to thank for saving the Imperium. I’m sorry to see you looking less than your best. Miles tells me you’re improving, though?”

“I’m very much better, Uncle Aral. Thank you. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m looking forward to today very much. Any idea what Gregor has up his sleeve?”

“Not a clue.” Aral paused. The tone of his voice dropped and he barely whispered. “While we’re talking about what we’ve got up our sleeves, I'll get to the point of why I asked to see you. I know you, Ivan. You’d have to be _more_ than half dead before you lost your…er…shall we say _idiosyncratic_ sense of humour? If you do anything, and I mean _anything_ , to disrupt Miles’ wedding, I’m going to skin you alive and turn your hide into a drumskin. I hope I make myself entirely clear?”

Suddenly Ivan was sixteen years old again. His Uncle Aral had never looked more terrifying. He opened his mouth to deny any such thought had ever entered his head when Cordelia appeared from the library. “Did I hear voices? Oh, Ivan!” She ran across the hall to enfold him in a warm hug. “We were so worried! I’ve never seen Alys so…distraught. Simon, too.”

“I missed it all,” Ivan said, disentangling himself. He didn’t want to hear about his mother being so upset. “Raine didn’t do too badly, did she?”

“Anyone who tries to hurt my boys gets exactly what they deserve. Raine’s a woman after my own heart.” She tucked an arm through his. “Come and tell me what the doctors are saying while we wait for the rest to arrive.”

She was going to worm every last detail out of him. Ivan looked round for help. Aral didn’t seem to see anything wrong and Roic was doing his best impersonation of a coatrack. Fox, the coward, was hiding in Roic’s considerable shadow.

By the time the guest of honour came down the stairs there was quite a crowd milling in the hall. Kou, Simon, Dono Vorrutyer, René Vorbretten, Duv Galeni and a sprinkle of Lords Auditor, including Georg Vorthys, were all waiting for him. Right on schedule, an Imperial lightflyer transporter dropped into the forecourt.

“Gotta go, Aunt Cordelia. Enjoy your afternoon.” Ivan was uncomfortably certain his aunt had managed to read between the lines far more than he had intended to tell her. Too bad, nothing he could do about it now.

Sneaky Gregor had virtually blindfolded them. The lightflyer did a horizontal seven twenty something, Ivan estimated. Simon could probably tell them exactly how many times they’d turned around, but _he_ had no idea in which direction they were heading. Every single one of them checked their chronos and tried to estimate the speed.

“Dead reckoning isn’t going to help us,” Miles said, giving up on trying to work out they were going. “Let’s just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Less than an hour later they landed. They were at the proof range. It was _freezing_ cold.

“Is that what I think it is?” Miles looked at Ivan.

It most certainly was. An old resentment boiled up in Ivan. “I never did get a turn at driving it.”

Aral bent over laughing. “Oh, God. The grey hairs you boys gave me that day. Not to mention Elena. Do you remember, Kou? Where the hell did Gregor dig these up from?”

Not only was there one Resistance tank on the proof range, there was a whole squadron of them. By the looks of them, they were in full working order.

“Holy shit, there’s one _each_.” Miles led them over for a close look.

The top hatch on the lead tank popped. Gregor poked his head out. “Safety briefing in the ready room in ten minutes, gentlemen. You need to get changed, first. Uniforms are provided in the Officers’ Mess. We can drive all we like, but unfortunately we only have three rounds each. Please do not annoy Our range master or the safety officer. No firing until he says so and definitely no drinking until _after_ we’ve played nicely.”

Georg Vorthys looked slightly alarmed. Gregor actually smiled down at him. “Unfortunately the charges have been modified. We won’t be splitting any barrels today, Lord Auditor.”

Miles stopped dead. “I know what this is! It’s the battle of Vorhalasgrad documentary VSU is making! Complete with the snow!”

Aral’s eyes gleamed like stars. “Sitting round the campfires with my brother when times were…bad…the old armsmen used to tell stories about those crazy old buggers taking on the Cetas with their tanks. We couldn’t make any less effort than they did. It always drew out just one more effort for Barrayar.”

“Without the ultimate sacrifice at the end,” Gregor added. “ _We_ are going to enjoy ourselves.”

It had to be the best bachelor party ever. Even all the armsmen got to double up as tank crew. Ivan let Fox have a go at driving for five minutes, but only after he’d had a great time himself. Only Georg Vorthys declined to drive a tank on the basis that he couldn’t actually fit through the hatch. He had much better fun working out the angle of elevation required on the five-metre gun barrels on turrets two metres above the ground firing at their elevation to the elevation of the target, including the weather from ground level up to the peak of the ballistic trajectory at two thousand metres, plus the rotation of the planet and the reduced charge’s effect on the predicted velocity. Even Miles watched in awe as he produced the calculations.

After lunch, they got to put his predictions to the test. After one round adjusting fire only Kou’s tank had to drop fifty metres. The final honour went to Miles. Ivan had to suppress a grin as the little admiral’s voice came over the com set. Miles had slipped right back into the mindset. “Squadron left, rolling volley, ten second intervals, _At My Command_ , two rounds fire for effect.” There had to be the dramatic pause, or it wouldn’t have been Miles, would it?

“Number one, Fire! Number two, Fire! Number three, Fire!” And so it went, all down the line. As Marie would have said, it was _triffic_.

The VSU holovid team had a saluting base set up with an actor playing Emperor Dorca. Would any eagle-eyed viewer spot that the first tank commander saluting in the open turret on the drive-past was, in fact, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan standing on an ammo box and his trusty 2IC in the second tank was no less than Emperor Gregor Vorbarra himself? They would probably have conniptions at the sight of Viceroy Vorkosigan in the third one.

Back at the bar at the range’s Officers’ Mess the drinking finally began. Wally had allowed Ivan one drink a day now, so he raised his glass in the first toast and sipped at his champagne. It had to last. He wandered over to a club chair near the fireplace and sank into near-exhaustion. It had all been worth it, though. He was close to dozing off when he was jerked back to attention by someone, two someones, actually, sitting on each arm of the chair.

Gregor held him down when he made to stand up. “Miles and I have been thinking. We’re both going to be busy after the wedding, although I’d rather be Miles’s kind of busy than the Court of Inquiry I’ll be chairing, so you’re nominated to bring Elena out here for a day. It’s only fair she gets a go at driving, too. And if you find the time to have a quiet word with her, so much the better. What do you say?”

Maybe it _was_ time to apologise to Elena. Ivan nodded. “Sure thing. Who’d pass up another ride in one of those?” He reached round to rub his skinny buttocks. “I’ll remember to bring a cushion, though. ...And a hot water bottle,” he added as an afterthought.

 

Raine had a slightly wide-eyed look that the remnants of his armsmen were also wearing when he returned from the day at the range. When she leaned in to give him a kiss her scent didn’t smell like the Escobaran moon flowers she normally wore. It was something far more…exciting, on a purely visceral level. He had to have another, lingering nuzzle to take it all in.

“What have you girls been up to, today?”

“I don’t know about the rest of them, but I’ve been getting an education,” Raine replied. “Your Aunt Cordelia…she’s an interesting character, isn’t she?”

“Betan,” Ivan said. “Pretty much sums it up.”

“It pretty much does.” Raine agreed. “She’s left no stone unturned making sure her son enjoys…er…married life. She couldn’t send the two of them to the Orb, so she pretty much brought the Orb to Barrayar.”

Ivan looked at her with deep suspicion. “What’s been going on in my dining room? I thought I’d seen the last of that sort of thing round here.”

“Oh, it was all exquisitely tasteful. The Koudelka girls started off with a reading from _Lord Vorperil’s Dungeon_ , and then Cordelia persuaded me to read an excerpt from _Lord Vordagger’s Bride_. It’s not even published, yet. We banished the poor armsmen at lunch and served ourselves while Cordelia demonstrated all the educational aids she’d brought from Beta.”

Raine stopped, looking puzzled for the moment. “Did you mention anything to her? I’d never say a word to a soul without your permission, but she seemed to know you had a bit of a problem.”

“Possibly. I had no intention of saying anything at all, but she’s totally sneaky in extracting information. She would have been the _ideal_ covert ops agent.” He stopped to think. “She probably is. Anyway, what made you say that?”

“She gave me a little sample. She said it would have us _bonking like rabbits_ in no time. Completely guaranteed.”

Ivan couldn’t decide if he was appalled or grateful. “It’s impolite to refuse a gift, I suppose. We could give it a try.”

“Mmm. Ivan,” Raine hesitated. “Would you ever want to try a threesome with another woman?”

_Oh_ , this was shaky ground, especially since, well, never mind about that. Cetaganda was a long time ago. “I hadn’t thought about it. What made you ask that?”

Raine shrugged. “Cordelia said if everybody concerned was totally happy, there was nothing wrong with something like that.”

“She’s big on consent. Would you be happy with _something like that_? Be totally honest with me.”

“No, I don’t think I would.”

Ivan let out a big sigh. “Well, I’m very glad to hear it, because there’s no way between here and Hell or Cetaganda that I’m sharing _you_ with anyone. …What _is_ that scent you’ve got on? It’s…doing things to me.”

Raine batted her eyelashes. “Want to visit my rabbit hutch?”

 

Miles called the next morning, with the timetable for the day itself. “I don’t know if I’ll get much time to see you before the Winterfair Ball. We've only got the welcome dinner. You’ve never met Taura, have you?”

Ivan shook his head. “I’ve heard you and Mark talking about her, but that’s all.”

“I need people to be able to treat her normally. You remember Bothari? She’d be a head and a half taller than him, with…well…fangs. I’m going to get Roic to look after her. He’s the tallest man I’ve got at the moment, but at the wedding itself I’m relying on you, Coz.”

“I’ve been to Cetaganda, remember? I can cope with just about anything. I’ll look after her for you.”

“Thanks. Er, Ivan, did my mother…she said…she didn’t embarrass Raine, did she?”

“What did she say?”

“You know my mother. She said she gave Raine something to…er…”

“Have us _bonking like rabbits_ , was, I think the phrase she used. Well,” Ivan couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Let’s just say Raine wasn’t embarrassed, and you can tell your mother _thank you very much_ from me.”

“Oh? _Ohhh.”_ Miles grinned. “I’m glad. I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“All we have to worry about is you, my friend. We have to keep you in one piece long enough to get married. After that it’s up to you.”

 

Two days before Winterfair Ivan had gone back to his room to change out of his sweats for dinner at Vorkosigan House when his comconsole chimed its special tone.

“Gregor! I wasn’t expecting you to call. Has something happened?”

The Emperor actually looked happy. “Good news, Ivan! ImpSec picked up Louis Vorbataille at the shuttleport. He must have thought he could slip through with all the extra traffic at this time of year. His mistake, We’ve got him, and three of his Jacksonian criminal associates with him. Guy’s got his best team on the interrogation.”

Ivan sat back in his chair. The tension he’d been feeling for so long eased suddenly. “Is that the last of them, do you think? Are we finally safe?”

“I think so. I certainly hope so. The security teams are going to stay in place until after the wedding and all the interrogations are complete, but I think the end is in sight.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Raine. Thanks for letting me know, Gregor. Does Miles know?”

“Simon was just with Us. He’s on his way to Vorkosigan House now so he’ll tell him. We’re really glad this isn’t dragging on over Winterfair. We should be able to relax, just a bit.”

“I’ll see you at the ball.”

Gregor cut the com. Ivan went off to the bathroom whistling. It was definitely time to celebrate. He’d had Wally’s OK to start eating normally within reason, too. His good mood lasted all through meeting Elena, Baz and Arde again and introducing them to Raine. He managed not to show his shock at Taura. Miles had warned him, but even so, she was literally stunning. It was kind of cute the way Roic was lined up to slip her a second plate of each course, like it was the perfectly normal thing to do. It was no surprise she was eating for two, though. She’d have to be three times the weight of Miles, at least.

Ekaterin didn’t look too well. In fact, she looked terrible. It would be an absolute disaster if she was coming down with something. Sitting on her other side to Miles, he could see a sheen of sweat break out on her skin and the way she just pushed the food around her plate.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he murmured quietly. Ekaterin went to shake her head, but stopped with a sharp intake of breath. She went so white Ivan thought she was going to faint. He leapt to his feet to help her, but Miles beat him to it. She held a napkin to her head.

“I’m so sorry, Miles. I need to go home. I…I’m not well.” Ekaterin went out leaning heavily on Miles’s shoulder, waving away other offers of help. “No, please. Don’t interrupt your dinner. I’m sorry to cause such a fuss.”

There was an awkward pause for a few minutes, everyone not wanting to make too much of it. Ivan looked around. “Has Miles mentioned the trip to the proof range yet, Elena?” he asked. “We had the best time out there the other day. You should have seen the way Uncle Aral and Simon showed us all how to do it.”

Elena laughed. “Has Ivan told you about our exploits, Raine, when we found the munitions cache? We got into so much trouble. I’m glad he finally got to drive a tank at last.”

The rest of the meal passed off uneventfully, but it wasn’t a late night. With Winterfair and the wedding here at last, it was the final chance to get a good long sleep.

 

 

 


	41. Everyone loves a wedding.

 

 

Poison? Neurotoxin? Ivan couldn’t believe it. _Ekaterin?_ Taura had saved her, saved House Vorkosigan, saved his cousin, saved himself, too, from the pain of Miles’s utter madness if Ekaterin had been killed. It should have been such a happy morning, waking up on Miles’s wedding day, and he’d woken up to _this_. Was it the same poison that had nearly taken his own life, left him sweating in the night sometimes?

Raine sat beside him at the comconsole. She put an arm around his shoulders. “Ekaterin is going to be fine. Is that what they’re saying?”

Ivan tried to hold it together. “She hasn’t ingested anything, and it wasn’t a penetrating injury, like me. It’s crossed the skin barrier, but in a low dose. Aral says she’s going to be fine and the wedding’s going ahead as normal. I’d better get over there.”

“I’ll come with Alys and Simon, or if they need to go early, too, I can get one of the armsmen to drop me off. Don’t worry about me. You get over there as soon as you’re ready. This is a special day for the two of you, as well. You’ve got your present to drop off, don’t forget. Ma Belka says it’s taking up most of the second freezer. She’s got no idea what’s in there.”

Ivan gave her a grateful kiss. “If this doesn’t scare you off, nothing will. I hope Miles has had some sleep. I’m sure Cordelia and Aral will have seen to that, though.”

It wasn’t easy, getting through the ImpSec cordon on the garden. Quite a few people had to be in on the surprise, but not anyone from the house itself. It was probably the first time ever a lump of ice had been screened and probed and scanned then have it done all over again, but at last Ivan was happy it was where he’d planned. Jankowski let him into the house. There was an electric buzz in the air, but everywhere he went the armsmen and servants were tiptoeing on their eyelashes, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby.

Ivan was in the hall when Ekaterin arrived. They had a moment, the look in her eyes acknowledging their shared narrow escape, and then she was whisked away to Cordelia’s suite.

Ivan waited in the sitting area while Aral went in to wake Miles. He could only smile at the glass of water and little blue pills in Aral’s hands. He’d seen _them_ more than a few times before when dealing with Miles. The man himself came out of the shower at last, dressed only in his boxers. “Hey, Coz? How are you? Happy days, or is that happy daze?”

Miles gave him a grin and a hug. “So close, Ivan. So close.” His whole expression narrowed. “There will be a reckoning, for Ekaterin, and for you.”

“But not today. Today, we get you married. It might help to put some clothes on you, first. I’m sure Pym’s got them all ready. Socks are good. Where’s your shirt? Ooh, fancy. It’s silk. You’d better eat first. You don’t want coffee all down the front of that.”

“Eat? You must be joking.”

Ivan smiled at Aral, who smiled back. “You are going to eat, little Coz, if my last act as your friend is to force some food down your throat. Coffee, and spiced bread. You won’t be awake to enjoy the drama if you faint at Ekaterin’s feet now, will you?”

With his father standing over him as well, Miles sighed and acquiesced. All-seeing Pym chose that moment to knock on the outer door and roll in the breakfast trolley. Between the three of them they managed to keep him in his seat, feed him the warm bread and get the all-important cup of coffee down him. The tranqs had started to work, too. The incessant finger-drumming and foot tapping slowed to a stop. By the second cup of coffee he was manageable.

Aral’s wristcom pinged. “Guy Allegre’s arrived. I’ll go meet him and tell the ladies. Ivan, can you get Miles dressed? Pym, send someone to find Taura and Roic. We’ll all want to hear what Guy’s got to say.”

Ivan twitched the napkin out of Miles’s lap. “Shirt and trousers, Coz, and those ridiculously polished boots of yours. I say, who did the embroidery on your suspenders? Should have come to me, you know. I can get all this sort of thing done at mate’s rates. There you go. Pym’s got his white gloves on to help with those boots.”

The stream of small talk was quite exhausting, but it kept Miles focused. At least he was decent by the time Taura was announced by Jankowski, who shot off to roust Roic from his bed. The armsman arrived just before Aral’s return with Guy Allegre, Cordelia and Ekaterin hard on their heels. Miles’s tunic could wait.

Taura took up most of the space on one of the sofas in the suite’s bay window. Miles and Ekaterin sat together on another. Ivan hurried to pull up chairs for Guy Allegre and his Aunt Cordelia, but she chose instead to stand beside her husband, who sat back to front on an upright chair, his arms over the back, as was his habit. Roic, looking hideously uncomfortable, slotted in beside Taura.

Guy pulled out the pearls from his pocket. “The neurotoxin on these pearls is slightly different to that used on Count Voralys, but there’s no doubt it came from the same lab, and most likely from the same hands. Our…er…discussions with Lord Vorbataille confirmed a link between him and Count Vorclarence. The two were lovers, unlikely as the pairing may at first appear. Instead of fleeing while he still had the chance Vorbataille became determined to revenge Vorclarence's death. Where they failed with Mademoiselle Vorfolse they hoped to succeed with Madame Vorsoisson, the intention being to leave Count Voralys and Lord Vorkosigan to…er…suffer. We believe they were all pawns in a much bigger game, however. Hopefully Luca Tarpan will reveal the true mastermind.”

Ivan felt sick. By the looks of him Miles didn’t look too much better. When all the others had left them alone, they had little to say to each other. Ivan helped Miles into his tunic with exaggerated care. He found words at last. “You _will_ let me know when you track them down, won’t you? If I can’t be there I want pictures as the heads roll.”

“On my word as Vorkosigan, Ivan. You can be very, very sure of that.”

Pym knocked on the door. “Count and Countess Vorbarra are arriving, my lord.”

Miles, his eyes very bright, straightened up. “We’ve wasted enough time and energy on worthless scum. I’ve got better things to do, Ivan. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

The flyer rose into the night sky and the fireworks started. It had been a perfect, perfect day. Taura had been a much pleasanter and wittier companion at dinner than Martya Koudelka and her tart snipes would have been. She’d even made Gregor laugh. Once they’d said goodnight to the Emperor Ivan slipped back into the entry hall. Pym sat down at the porter’s bench to the side of the front door, his face a picture of unhappiness. Ivan joined him.

“Well, we’re a pair of screw-ups, aren’t we, Pym,” he said, “but we’ve _done_ the thing, between us all.”

Pym looked blankly at his feet. “I was nearly the cause—”

“And _I_ was nearly the cause of you giving Miles almost as much pain as losing Ekaterin would have been. I’m sorry, Pym. I never apologised for that day. I know it was you I have to thank for saving my life at the Emperor’s Birthday, too. I haven’t had the chance to tell you, but thanks.” Ivan held out his hand for Pym to shake. They both slumped back with their heads against the wall.

Pym sighed. “Tomorrow is another day.”

They were still sitting in the shadows when Taura and Roic crossed the hall and made their way up the stairs together. “About those rabbits, Count,” Pym remarked. “How the _devil_ did you do it?”

 

Cordelia persuaded Elena to leave the baby behind and have the day off. Ivan didn’t know quite what to expect for their day out together. At least he had Fox along as chaperon, if not his proper role as bodyguard. He might just need him. Elena had a lot more fighting experience than he himself did if she turned nasty. There was a lot of water under the bridge, though, since he’d last seen her, and they’d been perfectly polite to each other at the wedding. They’d even had a dance.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the tank. “Oh, Ivan, do you remember?”

“Don’t I just? It was all my fault, of course, as usual, and I never even got to drive it! Anyway, let’s go get kitted up and briefed. The only thing we’re not allowed to do is bend them. They’re going into the Imperial War Museum once filming on the doco wraps up.”

It was going to be all right. They had a great morning, ending up with lunch in the officer’s mess. Elena looked at him as they ate. “You’ve changed, Ivan,” she remarked. “Oh, not in looks, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone any more, do you?”

“I’ve given up trying to one-up Miles, if that’s what you mean. It was always a losing battle.” He swallowed another mouthful and sipped at his drink. “You’ve changed, too. You’re even more beautiful. Being a mother really suits you, Elena. Baz is one hell of a lucky man.”

“Thank you. I never dreamed my life would turn out like this.”

Ivan had to laugh. “I know exactly how you feel. ...Elena, I’m sorry. I hope you know that. I look back at myself at seventeen and I just cringe. I thought I was such a stud.”

“You _were_ such a stud, Ivan. But who wants a stud? I want a faithful lover and a father for my child.”

She paused. “Speaking of which, I hope I get to meet your daughter before I leave. I’ve heard all about her.”

“If you come back to Voralys House you can see her when she gets home from school.” He glanced at his chrono. “We have another thirty minutes or so here, take a detour via home and I can have you back by 1700 hours as planned. Mamère might be there, too. She wanted to talk to you again.”

“That sounds great. Is Simon Illyan likely to be there? I can’t get used to the way he is now. It’s so strange.”

“Simon’s always there. He’s turned into the Da I never had. Perhaps I should have tried to emulate _him_ growing up, rather than the man I thought my father was.”

On the trip back, he had time to think about what he’d said. It was truer than he realised. It was impossible to take a ghost as a role model. He’d given it a good try, though.

By Vorrutyer had turned up at the house and was waiting for him when they returned. Ivan introduced Elena briefly, but she was carried off by Alys for a gossip before Marie arrived home. Ivan took By into his study.

“My word, Ivan, you look like something the cat dragged in. Have you been burning the candle at both ends? I hope you’ve got some salacious gossip to go with it.”

Most people were too polite to comment that he didn’t look too well at times, but By wasn’t most people. “Thanks, By. If I need any salacious gossip I know exactly where to come. How is Sela? Still enjoying Barrayar?”

“Shall we say its scope is blossoming? I think Sela wants to make it its life’s work to convert the heathens. It hasn’t done a bad job converting me, is all I can say. We have a scheme.”

“Uh oh. Should I be worried?”

“Not at all. Have you heard of the Quartz Award?”

“No, should I? I take it you’re referring to Sela’s home town?”

“Yes indeed. Quartz University is famous for its liberal arts. The Quartz Award sponsors public works of art. The bigger the better. We’re nominating New Sheffield.”

He handed over a holo of a high-rise apartment block newly painted in bright pink with white trim. No guesses who’d chosen that colour scheme.

“Basically we’re applying for seed money to advertise our project. A select few applicants will be allowed to choose the colour of an apartment block. They get a very tasteful plaque with their name on it.”

Ivan felt a bit baffled. “So how does that help, apart from the publicity of course?”

“Ah. This is the good bit. They’re allowed to become part of the project by _paying_ for the paint. They can even travel to Barrayar and help paint, if they want. Sela has lined up four donors already, without any advertising. They’re all thrilled. Betans are very big on philanthropy, and herms more than most. This, of course, is Marie’s building, but so far we’ll be having Betan blue, Primrose, Silica Sand, that’s another pale yellow, and Emerald. Give it a couple of years and the place will be a tourist drawcard on its own. All very tasteful, I assure you. The locals love it.”

Ivan considered it. “As long as you don’t touch Rotherhall, go for it.”

By produced his trump card. “Speaking of Rotherhall, we have a hundred and twenty confirmed bookings for the almond blossom festival in the spring, and more for summer. That’s as much bed capacity as you’ve got at the moment, but we’re looking into farm stays and homestays. You have to get on to doubling that ASAP. Etienne has organised the location and the contractors. We need you to sign off on it. Oh, and pay the bill, of course.”

“Has anyone booked the honeymoon suite, do you know? I might have a customer.”

By’s eyes flickered. “I forgot to offer my congratulations. Sad to see you go, of course. Where there’s life there’s usually hope, but I’m beginning to think I hoped in vain.”

He never gave up. If it was someone else he was chasing it would be funny. “Console yourself with Sela, By. Variety is the spice of life, they say, and you can’t get much more variety than that, can you?”

By shrugged. “We were all a lot more concerned with the later developments at the Birthday ball. No, to answer your question, as soon as Mrs Williams heard the news she’s blocked out the honeymoon suite until further notice. She’s waiting for you to say the word.”

 

It was a brilliant Spring day in Farmer Eccles’ almond orchard. The bluest of blue skies and only a hint of a breeze promised a fair day. At the end of the festival the blossom had started to drift to the ground now, coating the grass in enough pink confetti to gladden the eyes of a little girl on her very best behaviour. There’d been frantic activity for two days, and the swarm of ImpSec flyers and ground security must have alerted even the most unperceptive person in Rotherhall that _Something Big_ was happening. Curious tourists watched as the town square was filled with trestle tables and chairs bedecked with blue and silver ribbons. There were similar street parties being set up all over town, good food and good ales being brought out to celebrate. All eyes turned away from the holovid screens to watch as a huge Imperial shuttle, distinctive in black with a flash of silver from the nose highlighting the rose and olive branch sigil on the tail fin, roared overhead to land not far away.

Ivan waited in the groat circle under the trees. Miles, damn him, had kept up an almost insane burble of poor-taste jokes and dire warnings. Only Gregor’s presence made him shut up, in the end. With the Emperor and Empress in place, everything was ready. Ivan took a deep breath as he looked around the star points. Mamère and Simon stood so proud and happy. Wally and Aceline would be there, alongside Miles and then the last place was ready for Ekaterin. She’d been so surprised to be asked as Raine’s second. Only Uncle Aral was missing, and of course that ghostly presence in his life. Ivan had burned an offering that morning, thanking his father for the life he’d given him.

Vicereine Cordelia Vorkosigan in her most unaccustomed role as coach led out the bridal party as they passed through the honour guard of proud armsmen. Marie in her pink dress carried a basket of almond flower petals almost as big as she was, strewing handfuls onto the ground and into the air as the fancy struck her. Wally looked to be dying of pride as he held Raine on his arm.

Ivan forgot to breathe. His beautiful, incandescent Raine filled his vision and his heart. Her glorious hair trailed almost to her knees, bound with white flowers and silver ribbons. Her silver dress was embroidered with darkest blue acorns and oak leaves in a flaring sweep from shoulder to hem. She looked only at him. No Queen or Empress could ever be lovelier than this woman, soon to become his Countess.

Miles poked him in the ribs. “You’ll catch a fly. She’s waiting.”

Subtly prompted, Ivan held out his hand and together they stepped into the centre. Miles and Ekaterin bent to pour their bags of groats to close the circle. Cordelia had little to do to prompt their oaths. Ivan was almost word-perfect, stumbling only slightly as he nearly forgot to add Voralys to his name. Valeraine Amelie Vorfolse became Valeraine Amelie Vorfolse Voralys, and it was done.

Miles swept away the groats with a practised flourish. Raine bent for his kiss and Ekaterin hugged Ivan tightly before releasing him to the crowd of well-wishers. Simon wrung his hand. Prompted by a little devil somewhere in the back of his mind, Ivan spoke out loud so that everyone close by heard.

“There’s a perfectly good groat circle here, Simon. Shame to not get full use out of it.”

Gregor appeared by Simon’s side. “I’ve never had the chance to be anyone’s Second, Simon. It would be a great honour.”

Cordelia walked over to stand beside Alys. Laisa bubbled with joy. “Please may I be coach?”

Simon looked at Alys. “My lady?” He held out his arm. Lady Alys Vorpatril vacated her point on the star. Ivan took her place and Raine stood where Simon had been.

“You absolute devil!” Alys hissed at Ivan as she walked past him.

He shrugged. “You were never going to make your minds up without a bit of shove. You can’t back out now, Mamère.”

Miles had rushed to find some more groats. Aceline and Wally moved to the second witness circle as he and Ekaterin took their places. It was almost like some elaborate children’s party game. Gregor and Cordelia hurried to close the centre before they could change their minds.

Laisa invited Simon to start. He held Alys’s hands. “I, Simon Illyan—”

“Sorry, that’s wrong.” Everyone gaped at Gregor. He looked at Simon, and smiled the smile only his closest friends ever saw. “We’ll have the patents drawn up later. By Our decree, in front of these witnesses, from this day henceforth, Our trusty and faithful vassal Simon Illyan will be raised to the ranks of the Vor and be known as Simon Vorillyan.”

Miles clapped his hands. “Oh, superb! Well done, Gregor. So very well done.”

Ivan looked at Miles. “Can he do that?” he mouthed. Miles shrugged. “He just did. Who’s going to dispute it?”

Madame Alys Vorillyan and her husband followed the Count and new Countess Voralys back through the guard of armsmen. There were only ten of them, but the shout was taken up by Pym, Gerard and all the other armsmen present.

_“Voralys!”_

 

The fireworks were spectacular in Rotherhall that night.

 

 

The End

 

 


End file.
